Through the Oak Door
by struckatthesky
Summary: One kiss sparks the clues, but what do they all mean? Bella dreams of her future, knowing the life she lives ends in tragedy. How can she change her story when she already knows the ending? The door is there, but where is the key? (AH)
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Twilight.**

**Chapter One:**

**Lake Crescent is for Non-Lovers**

It is girlhood desire at its finest.

You know what I'm talking about, that sweet ache you get whenever the person you love in a quiet, unrequited way is near. When he asks you for a pencil in class and you feel honored because you love him and he asked you. It's the feeling that you would give up everything and run far away with him if he would just ask because nothing will ever get better than this moment or the way your heart soars in his very presence. It's that uneasy feeling, an uneasy you would never give up, when he sits next to you without a word or even a glance yet you feel like a bomb is about to go off in a good way.

Edward Cullen is that guy for me. I watch in awe as he throws his head back and laughs, the sun shining on his face. We're all the same today, us seniors, wearing caps and gowns and our best pair of shoes. His arm is around Rosalie, the girl he loves. I love Edward without thought or condition, so as he plants a kiss on her lips, I'm not angry or envious, just aching. He is happy and full of light which are the very best parts of him, so how could I wish to take them away? I don't know if I could make him happier in a better way, so watching Rosalie put the shine in his eyes is enough for me.

"I'm so proud of you!" My mother squeals pulling my attention away from Edward. She's here from Texas where she lives with Phil: a rancher she met through an online dating service. They live in sin, but my mother is happy with the novelty of cowboy boots and Stetson hats. Phil looks like the Marlboro man who used to be in cigarette ads when I was a kid. I want to joke with my father (and town sheriff), Charlie, later about who has the bigger gun holster. Phil is the epitome of a tobacco-chewing, gun-toting Republican.

"Thanks, Mom."

"Pictures!" she says and I don't think her voice could reach a higher octave.

I stand here in my robes and smile with my diploma in my hands. I'm proud I graduated high school, something I considered to be the most important role in my life, but now that this moment is here, it all feels lackluster. I feel like every door has been closed and I am left with no direction. I'm no longer a high school kid, but a graduated adult, and everything leading up to this point has flown by without so much as a whisper. I want to climb into bed and burrow underneath the covers while my parents figure everything out for me, but I know this isn't possible.

"Hey, Swan!"

My whole body clenches at the smooth, rich sound of Edward Cullen's voice forming my last name. I look over at him, looking at me, and I smile easily. I'm not particularly shy around Edward because as much as I desire him, I also feel like I've known him my whole life. I sort of have, but that's not the point.

"What's up, Cullen?" And I don't even sound like a lame.

"Party. My place. 7 o'clock. I hope I see you there."

And that's another reason why I love Edward. He isn't an untouchable prick, thinking himself better than anyone in the pecking order found in most high schools. His family has a little more money than most folks in this town and he won the genetic lottery the day he was created, but he's still sweet on top of everything else. Rosalie is a lucky girl.

"Yeah, maybe."

He makes his little happy face where his eyes squint and the left side of his mouth pulls up into a smile. I love that face, the same face he has made since I met him in 6th grade, and it makes me smile, too.

"Oh, Bella, he's a cutie."

I roll my eyes at my mother and duck my head. "That's just Edward, Mom. I've mentioned him to you before."

"You never told me how handsome he is."

"Yeah, he's handsome, but we're just friends. His girlfriend Rosalie was my chemistry partner this year. She's nice." Rosalie really is nice, almost as nice as Edward.

"Well, let's get over to the Coffee Shop. I don't know how long Darlene will hold our booth," my father says, giving the back of Edward's head the stink eye.

Again, I have to smile.

Mom, Dad, Phil, and I are sitting in the corner booth. It's the only place inside the Coffee Shop to sit a group of adults comfortably. I order the cheeseburger macaroni soup like I do every time I come in here, and I laugh with my family while I open cards. Apparently, Phil's family considers me family because they love my mother so much. As each card adds to my stack of graduation cash, I can't say I don't appreciate their hospitality.

"You know Grandma Higgenbotham left you a trust for college, so instead of giving you money I wanted to find something you would love." I smile at my mother, knowing how much she loves to shop. I'm not much of a shopper, but I do love old things and some of my best memories are of the two of us strolling through flea markets and garage sales when we still lived in Phoenix. She knows this about me, so I find myself excited when she hands me the gift bag she brought in with us.

I smile, digging to the bottom of the pink and burgundy tissue paper and pull out soft white cotton. It's a sundress with capped sleeves and simple lines. I press it to my face and inhale, smelling the scent of my mother's favorite laundry detergent still permeating the fabric. This dress is familiar, beautiful, and reminds me of home even though Forks, Washington, is where I began and where I am now.

"I love it, Mom. Where did you find it?"

"I thought you would. Phil's mother Margaret and I were cleaning out her attic and we came across a trunk filled with her sister's old clothes. She was going to donate everything to Goodwill but I saw this dress and knew you'd appreciate it. It's from the 60s," she says excitedly.

"That is so cool, you have no idea."

"I know just the place you can wear it."

"Where?"

"That boy's party tonight. Wear those leather moccasins I sent you for your birthday and let your hair down. The boys won't be able to resist you."

"Renee," my dad warns gruffly.

"Oh, you hush, Charlie Swan. I was a girl once, too."

And my father smiles at my mother in a way he will never again smile at any other girl. He remembers exactly what kind of girl Renee used to be and even though they didn't work out, he still holds that girl in his heart. Charlie and I are the same like that – two people who love unconditionally despite the cards we are dealt

O-O-O-O-O

Regardless of what my mother says, I will always be Bella Swan, daughter of Charlie Swan – a practical man. My dress is amazing and fits just right, but there is a cold front coming in off the mountains so I throw on my favorite flannel with it. I'm comfortable enough in my own skin to not care what people think about what clothes I wear. The people who will be at this party are people who have seen me wear sweat pants and a Forks Police t-shirt to school when I woke up late and didn't have time to change out of my pajamas.

The Cullen's house is big and white and beautiful. It's on the edge of town, though not really that far, and sits on a relatively large field with trees here and there. I park my beast of a truck next to several cars situated on the front lawn and make my way up the front steps.

Tyler and Lauren are standing on the porch and I wave. "Hey, guys."

"Hey, B. It's been a crazy day, hasn't it?" Lauren asks, taking a sip of something in a blue Solo cup.

"What else do you expect? In the words of our valedictorian Jessica Stanley, today is the first day of the rest of our lives."

"It was pretty epic when that rogue 'hell' made an appearance." Tyler adds, snaking his arm around Lauren's waist.

"She had to end her top dog status with a bang."

I laugh with the both of them. "Yeah, her mom and dad were constantly on her case to be the best. She needed her moment. I'm glad she got it."

"You're always so nice, Bella. You know Jessica was a pain in your ass at times." Lauren points out in that honest way of hers.

"True," I agree, "but I know I'll miss that pain in my ass when we all flee the flock and go off to college." And my words are true and laced with nostalgia that makes my heart feel heavy.

"Shut up, B. Don't make me cry again."

I walk over and give her a hug, remembering my first day of school in Forks. I was eleven and scared, having just left my life as I knew it behind when my mother decided to take a traveling sales job. I was sitting in Mrs. Freeman's homeroom trying to memorize the locker combination written on my hand when a tiny girl with white blonde hair sat down next to me and started talking. Lauren and I have been friends ever since, and even though we're not nearly as close as we used to be, I'll never forget the first person who offered me friendship when I needed it most.

"Calm down, Cullen!" I hear a deep booming voice come from the side of the house. I know who that voice belongs to. Emmett McCarty – the first and only boy I've ever had any 'experiences' with.

"Fuck you, McCarty. I've known you since we were in diapers and this is the kind of shit you pull?" Angry Edward is an Edward I never want to know.

"What the hell is going on?" Lauren whispers, peeking around the side of the porch. I follow her so I can look for myself and what I see stops me in my tracks.

Rosalie is standing between Edward and Emmett with tears streaming down her face. Edward is clearly pissed off, his fist full of Emmett's shirt. "Get off me, Rose. I'm fucking done."

"Edward, I'm sorry!" she cries, trying to loosen Edward's grip from Emmett.

"You should be. Two years, Rose. If you wanted to be with McCarty you could've just ended it with me first. I understand hearts can change, but for you to lie to me and go behind my back with this shit? There's no excuse for it."

"Cullen, I should be the one apologizing. Rose was worried about you going to school on the east coast this fall while she stays back here in Washington. I'm the one who went there. I'm sorry, and yeah, you're right. There is no excuse for it."

I know Emmett's secret. It's the secret we share even though I never confided in him the way he did with me. We never dated or went farther than kisses and gropes and fingers because he isn't Edward and I'm not Rosalie.

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want to hurt you, Edward. I know when you leave that that's it for us. I thought it would be easier to break it off after you were already gone. I never wanted to hurt you," Rosalie reiterates, all of her confidence fleeting.

"That's just great, Rose. I can't even deal with this right now." Edward releases Emmett's shirt with a shove and spins on his heel, facing Lauren and I. I duck my head around the corner hoping he didn't see me because I don't want him to think I'm the eavesdropper I am.

"Fuck," I hear him say under his breath as he stands by his car that is blocked in by the cars belonging to those who came tonight. "Swan?" he says, and I want to wrap him up in a hug and take away his pain.

"Yeah?"

"I'll pay you to drive me somewhere. I drank a couple beers and I can't drive my car even if I wanted to."

I wave bye to Lauren and Tyler before I step off the porch and join Edward. "You don't need to pay me, Edward. I'll take you wherever you want to go."

"Show me the most beautiful place you've ever seen." His following laugh is dark and my heart twists because he's hurting.

"Come on," I say getting into the cab of my truck.

I'm a little nervous because Edward and I are alone for the first time ever, but I push those nerves down because he just took a blow to his heart. He needs a friend. We don't say anything to each other as I pull onto the 101 and head toward Lake Crescent. La Poel is the only place I can think of to take him, knowing there won't be anyone there at this time of day. The sun is beginning to set and I know the rugged mountains surrounding the lake will be black and the water a mirror. I used to go there with my friend Jake when he got his license the year before I did and I fell in love with the little pull-off that has moss covered picnic tables and a rushing brook leading out into the lake. It's calm and serene and I'm hoping Edward can benefit from it.

As soon as I see the sign, I turn on my left turn signal and drive my truck down the curvy little road that leads down to a clearing. I back my truck up so the bed faces the lake.

"I know you've probably been here a million times, but I think it's beautiful," I whisper, fearing my regular voice would be too loud after all the silence.

"It's perfect, Bella," he whispers back, making no move to get out of the cab.

I look up at him and see him staring back at me, his eyes pensive and curious. "I know you heard us," he says in a voice with no accusation but resignation. The defensive hunch of his shoulders shows he's embarrassed by what happened.

"Edward, you aren't responsible for the actions of others. If the tables were turned and it was you doing things with someone else, then yeah, you should be ashamed. But not now," I add, looking at my steering wheel as if it's the most interesting thing in the world.

"I feel like a fool. The third time she canceled plans with me saying she had to help her mom do some things; I decided to stop by her house and surprise her. I thought maybe I could help out or something. I just missed her, you know? She wasn't even home and her mom said she was out with a friend. I just didn't know it was Emmett. I trusted her to be honest with me."

My heart breaks for this boy sitting next to me. "Edward, you didn't do anything wrong. You shouldn't have to question the integrity of the person you love."

"That's just it. Rose and I were friends more than we were anything else. I'm not so much pissed off that she was screwing around with McCarty more so than she's been lying to me for the last couple months. Why do people lie?" He shakes his head and asks the question no one, not even the liars, really have the answer to.

"I don't know, Edward."

He sighs and opens his door, getting out of my truck. "Let's enjoy ourselves, shall we? We graduated today. All is not lost."

Edward and I end up sitting in the back of my truck watching the sunset. I would say it's romantic, but after the events of today I don't think he would share the same sentiment. Everyone knows nothing is truly romantic unless both parties are involved. I shake my head at myself, knowing my mind is getting away from me. Edward just found out his girlfriend was cheating on him with his best friend. There is no way in hell he would be sharing my thoughts.

"What are you thinking about, Swan?"

I'm caught off guard by his question and my mouth opens and closes like a fish. I'm sure I look awesome. "College," I lie, and then feel bad because we were just talking about lying.

"I got accepted into Penn State. I think my dad might have something to do with that. It's his alma mater."

"I got accepted into a few places. I don't know where I'm going to go, though. I have until June 30th to decide and I might end up tacking up my acceptance letters and throwing darts blind folded to choose."

"That's kind of awesome. I'll probably end up being a doctor like my dad."

"You sound hesitant. What do you really want to be?"

"Promise you won't laugh?"

"Promise."

"I want to join the Navy. There's a base in Bremerton."

Why would he think I'd laugh at that? "Then why don't you?"

"Mom said she would kill me. I think she assumes I would go into battle and get shot or something. She knows how to guilt trip me like no other."

"Well, my dad was in the reserves when I was little. He's now a police chief. I guess I'm used to people protecting and serving."

"It's just something I always wanted to do."

"Not that my opinion means much, but I think it's noble of you to want to do something like that. Maybe if you found more information and made some kind of chart you could win your mom over. I remember how well you did on the debate team. You can be persuasive when you want to be."

Edward laughs and my heart swells at how beautiful he is. "You're good people, Swan."

"I try."

"Why did we never hang out before?"

"I have no idea."

"It just seems like I know you. Like you're an old friend. I never even told Rose about wanting to join the Navy."

And this day cannot get any better than this moment, at least not for me. Edward just validated a feeling I've always felt toward him. "You can tell me anything, Edward. I know how nice it feels to have someone who will listen."

"Who listens to you?"

"I'm the suffer-in-silence type," I say, trying out some humor.

"Ah, I should've known. You look really nice by the way. I remember that dress."

My brows furrow and I laugh a little. "Not on me. My mom just gave it to me today as a graduation gift. It used to belong to her boyfriend's aunt way back in the 60s."

He looks at me harder and I feel heat flash across my skin. "Seriously? I swear I've seen you in it before."

"I swear I just got it today." I laugh, finding his confusion cute.

"Maybe I'm thinking of something else then. Do you want to go down to the water before the sun goes down?"

"Sure."

I stand on the shore of Lake Crescent with Edward at my side, the setting sun casting the world in hues of muted oranges and gold. The water is so clear here, acting as a mirror for the sharp, jagged peaks of the mountains surrounding the area. Thick trees line the shore and moss dangles around, giving this place a sense of wonder I've always been drawn toward.

"I've passed this place a million times and never once did I think to pull off and check it out."

"You grew up here. Not many people appreciate the things that have always been."

"I remember when you came from Phoenix. You had a tan and weren't a Quileute so you stood out like a sore thumb among the rest of us Forks natives."

"I remember. I haven't had a good tan since that summer. My mom and I spent a lot of time outside in Phoenix. It's so sunny all the time it's hard to stay inside."

"I remember when my parents and I went to the Virgin Islands. I got a bad case of sun burn and swore I'd never live in a place where it didn't rain a few times a week."

"Aww, you poor little Forker."

"What did you just call me?"

"A Forker?"

Edward laughs. "I thought you called me a fucker."

I chuckle. "No. I don't say things like that."

"I dare you to say it."

"No."

"Say it, Swan." He edges closer to me, his eyes full of mischief. "Out loud."

I shake my head and can't help the smile on my lips.

"Pretty please?" He's so close I can feel the heat of him.

"Nope."

He's closer still and my back brushes up against a tree. I have nowhere to run and I wouldn't dare move with him this close to me. That feeling is back, like a bomb is about to go off, and I want to witness every second of it. "I think you should, Swan. You'll make my day with one little word."

"What do I get from this?" I challenge, wanting him to speak again so I can feel his breath on my cheek.

"What do you want?" he asks, leaning his face closer to mine.

"What are you offering?" I'm not going to lose my footing now.

"I'll kiss you." His eyebrows are lifted and his eyes are shining again in that way I love.

I laugh, knowing he's joking. "Whatever, fucker."

And in a split second my laughter is cut off because Edward's lips are pressed against mine. They are soft and warm and sweet and perfect. White light explodes behind my eyelids and something takes me over, causing me to grab his shirt collar and pull him closer. I've never felt this way before, wanting to consume and be consumed by another person. One small kiss has turned into a ravenous dry humping session against a tree and I have to pull away because the ache in my heart is now between my legs and making me think stupid thoughts.

I am panting, trembling, and I can't believe Edward and I just did that.

"Damn, Swan. Who knew?"

"Yeah. Did that really happen?"

Edward's breath is warm against the top of my head. "Yeah, I think so."

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"Today has been crazy. I don't know."

"Yes, it's definitely been a crazy day."

And it is the craziest day, but it has also been the most eventful day of my life. I graduated from high school and watched the boy I love get his heart broken only to have him kiss me. It's with that knowledge I believe that Edward only kissed me because of his pain. Maybe I'm a pawn in an eye for an eye scheme he concocted somewhere between Forks and here, but I cannot fault him for it. Even if his intentions aren't noble, I'm still thankful for this day because it has been my very best day so far.

As I drop Edward off at his house which is still swarming with people, he presses a receipt in my hand that used to be on the floorboard of my truck. He smiles at me without a word and closes the door, leaving me alone with his number and a small note.

_Thank you for being a friend. Call me._

And while I drive home, I can't help but hum the theme song to the Golden Girls the whole way.

O-O-O-O-O

_His jeans are tight and my hands are frantic, undoing the buttons along his fly. My desire knows no bounds as I kiss and caress and want this man. My hands look delicate against the broad planes of his chest and the scruff on his jaw is all my lips want to know as he fits himself between my thighs. My dress is bunched around my hips as he burrows himself inside of me. The fit is so tight, uncomfortable, yet all encompassing comfort at once. I know this is right, that we belong, and I am desperate because time is running out._

"_I'll always come back to you." His voice is familiar but different and I want him so so much. I grind against him, praying the night will stretch longer than any other night because I don't want the sun to rise. He'll be gone, he has to – that's an order! – they say. His father and brother make it possible for them to rip him away from me. He is mine and I'm selfish and I want them to leave him alone and let us have our time together. He is my life and I am his and neither one of us will survive long without the other. Don't they know this?_

"_I can't hold back any longer." His voice is rough, full of longing and a needless apology. I thread my fingers through his hair that will be gone by the end of tomorrow and I want to cry as he fills me up on the inside. There is no ending or beginning when it comes to us._

"_I love you," I say and my voice sounds so fragile._

"_Always," he whispers and looks me in the eye. I am frozen and confused in the dim candlelight of the room we are in. It is warm here, too warm, and he is Edward, but not Edward. Maybe older?_

"_I'll love you forever," he adds, kissing my lips that kiss back automatically despite my bewilderment. I want to ask him so many questions, but he won't stop kissing my neck. I keep falling into a hazy fog that clouds my mind and turns my body into weightless pleasure. Falling and falling because it's all so good, and all I know is he is not my Edward – but Edward – and I don't want the sun to come up._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

**Bella Swan aka The Crazy**

I am agitated all day. Renee and Phil came over with breakfast, and my dad and I ate with them before they headed back to Seattle to catch their evening flight. While Phil is a little strange, I can't help but think he's good for Mom. He is wild enough to keep her interested, yet responsible enough to keep her from making flighty decisions. I appreciate they found each other because now I don't have to worry so much about her being alone.

My dad went to work and I have decided to clean the house to keep my mind off Edward and the kiss we shared. Not only that, I'm pretty sure I had a sex dream about him and that kind of thing just isn't right. Even though I know now my body is ready and willing with just a kiss from him, I can't just attack the poor boy when he's just as lost as I am in the scheme of things.

I put a load of clothes in the washer and open all the windows in the house. The sun has been shining on Forks for three days now and I want to air out the house before the rain comes back. My dad is a very tidy guy and I don't really have to scrub down the kitchen, but I want to because it keeps me busy. I hate sitting still for long, and knowing I have absolutely nothing to do until I go to college is wreaking havoc on my nerves.

I take all the dishes out of the cabinets and scrub down the wood with lemon Lysol. I have no idea why I'm doing this, but I do it anyway, surprised to find dust on the highest shelves. I climb onto the counters to get better leverage and I walk over to where the refrigerator is, attacking the top of it with my scrub brush. There's random stuff up here: an old movie ticket, a fishing lure, a bullet, the missing shed key, Dad's broken watch, a few fossilized Cheerios, and a Polaroid.

I pick up the Polaroid and see faded writing on the back: Charlie and Renee (I love you, baby!) July 13th, 1987. I know it's my mother's handwriting and when I flip it over and look at the picture, I can't help but smile. My parents are sitting on the front porch of this house and I can see the For Sale sign propped up against the rail from where they took it down. My dad doesn't have his mustache and he's smiling in a way I've never seen before, and so is my mom. She's wearing a yellow sundress and I can see me in the picture as well. I am the round bulge of her belly my dad has his hand resting against, and my heart hurts for these two young kids in this picture. Dad gave up going to college right after he graduated; instead he used the money his parents had saved up to pay the down payment on this house.

Seeing my parents so young and clearly in love reminds me of what I don't have in my life. Even though they didn't make it for the long haul, they still got the experience. They actually lived their lives regardless of the fact fate threw them for a loop. I'm not saying I want to get pregnant and have to make do with what I have, but I am saying I want to fall in love.

I am in love. That love just isn't returned like I wish it was.

With a chip off my shoulder, I finish cleaning the kitchen. I've lost my gumption to finish the rest of the house, so I throw my clothes in the dryer and take a shower instead. I shave my legs and wash my hair twice, wanting everything making me feel like crap to wash down the drain.

I decide against calling Edward. Not today, at least, because I don't want to come across as desperate. I crave his conversation and presence more than I have a right to, but I know he has a lot to work out on his own. His best friend and girlfriend were fooling around. The betrayal has to be festering like an infected wound. I know Emmett pretty well and it's hard for me to wrap my mind around what he did to Edward. He and Edward were like brothers, always doing everything together. I remember when my dad caught them playing ding-dong-ditch several years ago and confronted Edward and his parents about it at the diner two days later. I was really embarrassed over my dad and for Edward who got grounded on the spot. It wasn't easy being the daughter of the Chief of Police.

I decide to hang up the clothes I washed. My mind is wandering which is normally a good thing, but not today. I almost wish I could take back that kiss. It was the icing on a relatively good day, and it was something I'd wanted for so long. It exceeded any expectations I could have ever had. My only problem is that it probably won't happen again and now I know I was right about Edward being everything and so much more than I thought he would be.

I am pulled from my thoughts by someone ringing the doorbell. I run down the stairs and open the door with little thought.

"Hi."

A smile forms on my face without my consent. "Hello, Edward."

"You didn't call and I don't have your number."

I casually lean against the door frame as if my heart isn't leaping in my chest. "I figured you needed a little bit of time to process everything going on. I'm not much of a pusher."

"Time isn't on my side. I promised Mrs. McCarty last week I'd help Emmett clean out the garage today."

"Can't you say something's come up?"

Edward runs his fingers casually through his hair, mussing it up and making me feel that ache again. "I'm a man of my word, Bella. If I don't have my word – I got nothing."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I want to marry this man and have his babies and make him dinner. I think I'll start with dinner. "That was really sweet, Edward."

He smiles and shrugs his shoulders and I just want to scream he's so damned beautiful. "Anyway, I just wanted to stop by and say hello. Wish me luck?"

"You'll be alright, Edward. If things get awkward, just come back over. I won't be far." I joke. The McCartys live on the same street as I do.

"I might do that," he says.

"I'll be here."

Edward reaches a hand toward me and tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. My body lights up and I feel it all over. A snap, crackle, pop – Edward is the milk to my Rice Krispies. I am the master of lame euphemisms while I'm at it.

"See you later, Swan."

"Yep."

I watch him get in his car and drive off. However short and sweet it was, Edward made it a point to come see me today. I should call Angela or Lauren to see what they think, but I'm not big on the whole, "Oh my God, this is what he said, this is what he did – let's dissect everything and overanalyze because men are just so complicated" thing.

I'm bound to be a spinster, it seems.

Charlie is a man of comfort and routine – mainly comfort. Because of this, we have awesome porch furniture, two lounge chairs with the cushiest cushions ever on them. I grab my favorite poetry book and a glass of iced tea before I settle down in a chair, ready to be completely lazy. So many things have happened this week and it's all starting to crash down around me. I'm often like that – bouncing from crazy energy to sloth-like lethargy. I may or may not have a thyroid issue, but I don't like doctors or needles, so I'll take the wax and wane of my energy resources as they come and go.

I believe in fate. Coin tosses, gut feelings, Tarot cards – I believe in all of it. As the fates will it, so mote it be, baby. Solely for my own entertainment, I close my eyes and randomly open my tome of poems collected from American greats, asking the powers that be to send me a sign through a random poem. Signs are good. They might mean diddly-squat, but it's more than I have now to go on.

Let's see here…

…_I like an interior, smiling scream._

_When you walk past me on the street_

_I nod my head to you and, smiling, scream._

_You never hear me through the smile._

_The inside scream has no echo.*_

I decide I like James Schevill and his little poems. He gets me. I have no idea how this particular poem is a sign, but it makes me laugh anyway. Maybe that's the sign: lighten up, Bella. Make out with pretty boys and enjoy your youth.

I do need to enjoy myself. I take everything so seriously way too often. Maybe I should stop screaming inside and start acting on all those impulses. Not everything can be perfectly calculated and executed. Surely someone, namely Edward, would like to go along for the ride?

It was easy to feel this way about Edward when he had Rose. I had this love – this torch – and he had a girl who wasn't me. It was a painful existence at times, but it was also a simple one. A little because, because, and simplicity did me a world of good up until now. I never had a reason to wonder 'what if' and to think about the possibilities that are now, well, _possible_for Edward and I. He isn't just a dream and a wish anymore. He can stop by my house and touch me and kiss me and I don't have to feel guilty or question his decorum because he's no longer the boy with a girl waiting for him. He's alone now, unattached, and I want him to latch onto me. After years of telling myself it's going to be fine, that I'll find someone eventually, it is hard for me to grasp my someone might be Edward.

I don't really feel like thinking right now. Everything is too heavy and I can't bear that kind of burden right now. I'm already walking a fine line between greatness and hysteria. It isn't easy for me to admit nothing makes sense and I'm terrified of what's going to happen once this summer ends. Until the end of August, I'm still a kid as far as I'm concerned. I don't want to think about student housing, meal plans, or career maps. I don't know what I want to be when I grow up, and I don't want to start thinking about it now. I haven't even had sex yet. How am I supposed to know what I want to do for the rest of my life? I can't make big decisions when I don't have all the pieces necessary to make said decisions.

_Alright, God, the fates, the powers that be – whoever it is that runs this show of mortal desperation – I really do need a sign. Or a push. Or maybe even a nudge. I'm not picky._

I'm not big on prayer or religion for that matter, but every little bit helps, right?

O-O-O-O-O

_His skin is warm as he tucks my head under his chin while we stand outside of a gas station. He makes me feel small yet so safe at the same time. Conflicting emotions, but he covers all bases with simple actions and an openness that lets me know he is true. He kicks the duffel bag at his feet and I curl into him farther, hating for the first time ever the dull indigo sky of morning. Tick tock, the time has come. His brother is a cowardly bastard – the one who should be going today – not him._

"_It'll be fine, Clementine."_

_I try to laugh at one of the stupid little nicknames he has for me, but it comes out a sob and he just holds me tighter. I hear the metallic click and the static of tobacco igniting as he lights a cigarette. Camels are his favorite kind. I want – need – to memorize it all. I watch as he shoves his lighter back into the pocket of the jeans he wore last night. The same jeans I couldn't wait to get him out of._

"_Son of a bitch," he says, and I can't look up. I know he can see it coming down the road, the bus that will cart him off to places I can't even begin to imagine._

"_Come back to me." I am shaking, not wanting to get into my truck alone when I came here with him beside me._

"_I promise," he says, kissing my eyes that are too blurry with tears to see him clearly._

"_I love you."_

"_You're my heart, little bird." I suddenly feel sorry for every time I became annoyed with him and his pet names for every occasion. I'll let him call me anything as long as he stays with me. My heart is shredding, a pound of flesh in a meat grinder, and I can't do anything to stop it. There is nothing free about this country when it takes my boy too far from home and leaves me alone and a slave for any word on his well being._

I wake with a start and my poetry book falls off my lap with a loud thud. There is a crack in my heart that feels so real, swollen and heavy with the foreboding and longing of situations beyond my control.

"You okay?"

I jump out of my skin before I turn on my side and see Edward sitting in the chair next to me. He's lounging on my porch as if it's the most natural thing in the world, drinking my warm, diluted tea while he's at it.

"Were you watching me nap?" I feel a little naked and my heart is raw. I don't know why I've been dreaming about Edward, but I do know I don't want him to go away. Ever.

"I haven't been here long. Maybe five minutes. Or fifteen. Quite possibly twenty." He's so cute and I'm glad my dreams are a bunch of bullshit. I can't imagine loving him the way I do in my dreams and then having to say goodbye.

"How did it go with Emmett?"

He shrugs his shoulders and takes another swig of tea. I find myself oddly buoyant that he's drinking after me with little thought. The possibility of coming in contact with my saliva clearly doesn't bother him much. "He had a lot to say. I told him I need some time, but I think I understand where he's coming from. I wish he would have said something. So much time and pain could have been saved had he just opened his mouth and said what he was thinking. He's been in love with Rose for a long time."

He speaks nothing short of the truth. Maybe I should take Edward's advice. "I know. He told me awhile ago."

"He mentioned that. Told me not to break your heart because it's a good heart."

I smile. I knew Emmett had an idea of my feelings toward Edward. "It sure is."

Edward smiles and sets the tea glass down on the small table before digging his hand into the pocket of his jeans. "Look what I found," he says, holding out a silver Zippo.

My body freezes and my eyes go wide. No freaking way! "Where did you get that?"

"Found it in Em's garage. His dad's a pack rat. I found a sweet ass marble, too. See?" He holds out a blue marble as if it's just as important as the lighter. It's not the same. It can't be the same. There are a million Zippo's floating around. It's just not.

"Do you have a brother, Edward?" I blurt out, knowing he's an only child. This little piece of information will squash any inklings my dreams may be prophetic.

"How do you know about him?"

It feels like ice is slowly replacing the blood in my veins. "You do?"

Edward's looking at me as if I have two heads and I can't say I blame him. "No one knows about him. Who told you?"

"No one. I was just wondering."

"Promise you won't say anything if I tell you?"

"I promise."

"My dad had a thing with a woman named Elizabeth when he was young. He was seventeen when she got pregnant. Elizabeth is kind of a psycho and Dad was too young to know any better, so he just offered child support and let it be. I met Garrett once, but Elizabeth hates my mom, so it was the first and last time I ever saw him. He's seven years older than I am. He still lives in Chicago, I think. You could probably look him up online or something. His last name is Cullen."

"That's crazy." Almost as crazy as I am.

"Stranger things have happened. Now you know why my dad passes out free condoms at school functions." Edward smiles.

My head is a little foggy, but I speak anyway. "Yeah, I can't believe you have a brother. I thought you were an only child. I just had a crazy dream and you had a brother in it."

Edward's smile grows into a smirk and I realize what I just admitted much too late. "Dreaming about me, huh, Swan?"

"Just, um – it wasn't like, you know. It wasn't like that."

"Like what? Enlighten me."

I sigh and look at my toe nails. They're painted green. Green is a serene, tranquil color, and the opposite of my red face. "It wasn't sexual or anything. You were smoking in it."

"Smoking a cigarette, or smoking as in smoking hot?"

"Oh geez! Edward, really?"

He's laughing and pointing at me. "You're cute when you get all flustered."

Edward just said I was cute. It kind of makes me forget the fact I should be freaking out, not smiling like a dope. "Thanks."

"I should probably get going. Mom and Dad are expecting me for dinner tonight since they let me have my little party yesterday. What fun that turned out to be. I'm convinced the teenage population of Forks doesn't know how to use trash cans."

"Definitely not."

Edward is standing now, but I'm too afraid to join him. I feel all swimmy and off kilter after the dream and Edward's words. My dreams are nothing but a big bowl of coincidence, and I will gladly believe them to be such.

"I'll see you later, Edward."

"Yeah. At least text me. I swear I'm a good conversationalist."

"I will." I already have his number saved into my phone.

"Have a good night."

"You, too."

He leans in before I can react, pressing his lips to my cheek. "Sweet dreams, Clementine," he whispers, before making a quick exit.

This just isn't happening.

I keep my cool until Edward pulls away, but as soon as he is out of sight, I lock myself in my room and scream into my pillows like a nut job, which clearly, I am.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

**Blue Flannel Sheets**

Two weeks have past by and I haven't had any new dreams about Edward. I feel like I'm in the clear and not as crazy as I thought I was. It was a hard lesson learned asking the fates for a sign. I got my sign, but they didn't have to bitch slap me and chuck me over a cliff while they were at it.

Charlie had high speed internet installed when I started high school and Renee bought me a laptop. I call it 'the dinosaur' now: an old, prehistoric Dell that likes to overheat unless I prop it at an angle. I am on a mission with Google as my sidekick to figure out my dreams. While there hasn't been any new news to report, the symbolism and possible meanings keep eating away at me.

We were waiting at a gas station, but it was also a bus stop. I don't think we were in Forks. I look up the significance of waiting at a bus stop and laugh because it makes perfect sense.

_To dream you are at a bus stop indicates there is a decision you need to make. You need to decide what you want to do with your future._

Seriously, subconscious? You had to fabricate a big dream bordering on a nightmare to tell me I have to grow up and face the music? I could have figured that out all by myself.

_Lit candles are symbolic of intellect, enlightenment, awareness or the search for truth._

Yeah, I guess so. I'm aware Edward is single now and thinks we should spend as much time as possible together, not that I mind. He hasn't said a word about moving forward, and I pretend it doesn't make my heart jump every time he calls me Clementine.

_To dream you are saying goodbye to someone indicates an end to your worries and to a chapter in your life. You are moving on to a new stage. To dream someone is saying goodbye to you suggests you are going on a journey of self-discovery. _

I roll my eyes and shake my head. It all makes sense now. I'm going off to college, probably out of state, and Edward is the one thing I'm not ready to let go of at the moment. Sure, I don't like the idea of Charlie being alone, but he's not like Renee. He knows how to take care of himself and did for a good long while before I moved back in. I remember the look of overwhelming pride he would get every time I got an acceptance letter in the mail from one of the colleges I applied to. I never dreamed I would get four out of six, but I did, and Charlie knows I will do what he couldn't do when he was my age. He was ready to take on college and a new town, but I came along and he had to wait. I don't have to wait. I'm just taking my merry little time and my subconscious mind knows this.

And then there is Edward. He would never hold me back from anything, but I want to learn all of his secrets before I go out into the great unknown of higher education. We don't really have much time left, just weeks. Nine of them, to be exact.

I can't really think about it. It makes me feel sick to think so soon the two of us will be worlds apart. I haven't even told him how much he means to me, how much he always has, and I don't know if it would be selfish of me to tell him when so little time is left to enjoy what we could be. I know Edward likes me, but I don't think I'm the fire in his veins that he is in mine. I could either tell him how I feel or let things evolve naturally as much as they can with the limited amount of time to do so. Of course, telling him might be a bad thing. If I've learned anything about Edward in these recent weeks it would be that he's passionate, which isn't always a good thing. He can go either way like a pendulum.

Decisions, decisions, and running out of time. Time is not my friend. Clocks and calendars, the sun and moon, night and day, the changing of the seasons – they're all ways to tell time and for once, I wish they would all disappear so eternity was possible.

O-O-O-O-O

Tyler, Lauren, Edward and I are sitting on the swings in the park at Lake Pleasant. It's nowhere near as nice as Lake Crescent, but it's closer to town and has an ice cream vendor from Memorial Day through Labor Day. I'm eating a cherry snow cone listening to Tyler and Edward play a lewd game that makes me laugh.

"Okay, Edward. Shelley Cope, Jessica Stanley, and Leah Clearwater."

Edward laughs at Tyler's choices and scrunches up his face in that adorable way he does when he's thinking. KFM clearly involves a lot of logical, analytical prowess. "Kill Jessica Stanley, fuck Leah Clearwater, and marry Shelley Cope."

All of us are laughing at Edward, but only Lauren asks the question we all want the answer to. "Why would you marry Mrs. Cope?"

"She's almost seventy and a diabetic. No sex drive, life insurance, and she'll probably kick the bucket before I turn thirty."

"Oh my gosh, Edward. That is so wrong!" I scold him, even though I'm still giggling. Yes. I've become a giggler.

"Alright, Tyler. Angela Weber, Rachel Black, and Mr. Banner."

"Mr. Banner? That's cold, Cullen," Tyler says.

"Just answer."

"Ugh. Fine. Kill Mr. Banner – duh – fuck Angela Weber, and marry Rachel Black."

"Why Rachel?" Lauren asks Tyler in mock seriousness while trying to hold back a smile.

"She's kind of chubby and cute. I bet she bakes awesome cookies."

I know Rachel personally, so I nod my head. "She does bake awesome cookies. I know this for a fact."

"Ladies turn," Edward says, turning his swing toward me. "Young Bella: me, McCarty, and Newton."

I look at Edward and see the challenge in his eyes – a question – and my heart picks up in speed because everything in me is attuned to Edward. A simple game of KFM has turned into something more than just a stupid way for small town kids to pass the time. I sit up a little straighter and smile, deciding to lay it all on the line. Now or never. "Kill Newton, screw McCarty, and marry you."

"As long as you like me best," Edward says quietly through one of his lazy, lopsided grins.

"Always have," I admit, and it doesn't even feel scary.

"Well, kids, I have to get to work. Those groceries aren't going to bag themselves." Lauren is intuitive and gives me a knowing look. She doesn't have to go to work for another two hours, but she wants to give Edward and I some time alone. Ever since his fallout with Rose and Emmett; Edward has been spending a lot of time with my friends and I. I can't help to think Lauren has caught onto my feelings for Edward through my long stares and the way I smile constantly when he's around. I've been much more chipper than my usual self and Edward is the only difference in that equation.

"Have a good day," I say, giving her a hug.

"Call me when you get the time," she whispers in my ear before pulling away. "See you later, Cullen."

Edward nods in her direction and says bye to Tyler before turning his attention back to me. "I have to mow the grass today."

I laugh at his random comment. "Well, get to it then."

"You should come over," he says sheepishly, and I understand why he mentioned having to mow the grass.

"If you wanted me to come over, all you had to do was ask." I'm all jumbled up inside, but I can't help but tease him. He can ask me who I'd kill, fuck, or marry, but he can't ask me directly if I want to come over to his house? He doesn't make any sense.

"Yeah, I guess so. There isn't much to do there, but it looks like rain," he says, pointing to the sky that is becoming a sullen gray. It's been trying to rain all day, but the sun keeps coming back. It doesn't look like it'll win over the clouds this time.

"So are you one of those teenage guys who have posters of bikini babes all over his walls?" I raise an eyebrow, curious to see how he responds.

"You know it, Clementine."

"Why do you call me that?" I ask as we get in his car and he starts driving back toward town.

He shrugs his shoulders and taps his fingers against the steering wheel, keeping time with the song on the radio. "It just seemed right."

"Can I call you Eddie?" I ask, even though I know he hates it. I'd never call him Eddie anyway.

"I'd rather you call me anything other than Eddie. Thank God no one ever started calling me that."

We sit in comfortable silence with the radio playing softly as we drive back through town, passing the high school on our way to Edward's house. The brick facade and blooming flowers outside of Forks High makes my heart do a funny little twist. I can see us all standing out front waiting for the warning bell, congregating with gossip and questions like "do you have yesterday's biology notes?" swarming around. We're never going back, only forward, and I'm so scared what 'forward' may bring.

As I stare at the building now deserted for the summer, something strange happens. Colors swirl and the red of the geraniums in the planter boxes begin to morph into purple and then blue. I am no longer seeing flowers, but blue flannel sheets on a bed in the middle of a bedroom I've never been in. They are soft and smell like fabric softener and I've never felt so safe or alive as I turn and wrap my arms around Edward's chest. The shock of seeing the t-shirt he's wearing - the same t-shirt he's wearing today - pulls me back into reality.

"You okay?"

I close my eyes and shake my head slightly, clearing out the fog. What the hell was that? "Yeah, I was just having a moment."

"It's weird that we're done, isn't it?" Edward asks, glancing in the rearview mirror at the high school we just passed.

"Yeah, it is. Four years and all the whining we did over having to go there every day only to feel sad we don't have to go back."

"I know what you mean."

Of course he does. Edward and I are very similar despite our differences. I'm just hoping that doesn't change.

O-O-O-O-O

Edward made us lunch and we're finishing up turkey and cheese sandwiches that are surprisingly good. I was afraid to try the 9-grain bread with real flax seed and oats in it, but it isn't so bad.

"My dad's a cardiologist. Of course we eat heart healthy. Lead by example, Edward," he says, taking on the tone of his father.

"Charlie's a cop. I was raised on donuts and beef jerky," I joke, laughing at Edward's expression. "I'm kidding. I'm a great cook and Charlie isn't so bad. He could burn water sometimes, but he's the master when it comes to crock-pot cuisine."

"My mom makes some awesome stuff. She took a few cooking classes before she started working for the non-profit group up in Port Angeles. I think she was afraid I'd be raised wrong if she wasn't here all the time."

"Why did they never have more kids?" I ask, wishing I could take it back once I realize how personal that question could be.

"They tried, but it never happened. I think that's why my dad feels so guilty over Garrett. He didn't fight to be a part of Garrett's life even though Dad wanted to be."

I sidestep something that might be heavy with a story of my own. "Mom says she learned a lesson about not being on birth control when she got pregnant with me."

Edward looks horrified and I realize how that sounded. "No, not like that. She's great, calls me a gift and tells me she wouldn't trade me for the world, but she says she was too young to be a mom. I get it. She was seventeen and Dad had just turned eighteen when they found out about me. It's scary to think about. Could you imagine having a kid right now?"

"Hell no. Rose was on the pill and I still used condoms. Shit happens, yeah, but I tried really hard not to let it happen. Thank God it didn't."

I feel a little sick he mentioned having sex with Rose so casually, but it doesn't override the feeling of sadness in my chest as Edward stares down at the kitchen floor, most likely thinking about what happened just a few short weeks ago. He had a relationship with her for a long time; of course they did what the average teenager does.

"Hey, none of that," I say, walking over to him and giving him a hug. It's innocent enough and I am happy when his arms wrap around me. "Show me your bikini babe posters?"

Edward's smile is back and he takes my hand, leading me out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I am excited, like I am about to stumble upon buried treasure or something, but Edward has that kind of influence over me. I'll get to see where he sleeps and does - _did_ - his homework. I'll get to see -

My thoughts are cut off abruptly when we walk into Edward's bedroom and I see his bed. _No freaking way._

"Blue flannel sheets, huh?" I say out loud, more for me than Edward.

"Yep. They're the softest sheets in the world. And yes, my mama picked them out," he says proudly, walking over and flopping down on the bed, making a show of rolling around in them.

I laugh even though I'm freaking out. _Seriously? I have creepy dreams foreshadowing stuff and now I'm having – what – visions?_

I'm not going to think about these things. I mentally schedule another date with Google and focus on what's in front of me. Edward, on Edward's bed, in Edward's bedroom. Alone. What a sweet distraction.

And he's such a liar. There isn't a bikini babe in sight.

O-O-O-O-O

Edward and I are lying on his bed after a game of checkers we played on the floor, and I am staring into his eyes instead of looking at the sheets. Nothing, not even my craziness, can deter me away from the fact Edward has brought me into his world. I didn't even have to ask: it was all him. For once, I am not the nice girl finishing last. I am a girl in a boy's bed with her every nerve ending standing at attention because I'm sure he's going to kiss me again. Something passed between us this afternoon and I'm now certain Edward feels something for me. I can't deny that I'm on cloud nine about it all.

"You're beautiful, Clementine. I feel like an idiot for not noticing sooner."

I'm surprised by his comment and floating in a place where everything is completely perfect. I have been upgraded from cute to beautiful and it feels divine. "You're not an idiot, Edward. I'm just glad you noticed at all."

"I dream about you, too," he says softly looking sad and vulnerable all the same.

"Why are you sad?"

"In my dreams, I'm saying goodbye to you. I don't want to say goodbye, but summer is slipping away too fast."

My heart is going crazy, pounding away and making me ache in too many ways at once. What if his dreams are the same as mine? "Don't worry about the ending. It's now that matters. What do you dream?"

He looks down at my hand and laces his fingers with mine. "I don't think the things I've been dreaming have been very honorable."

"Mine haven't been. Not always." My admission is soft, slight, yet bold enough to garner a reaction from him. A ray of sunlight slants through the dark navy curtains and hits Edward's face, igniting the tiny gold flecks in his green eyes. He is brilliance and need incarnate. Even if we have to say goodbye, I know without a doubt I will never want another quite like I want Edward Cullen.

I'm breathing heavily as is Edward, and our bodies are inching closer. I can feel his warmth and I gravitate to him, anchoring myself to this moment with a kiss. He was first, but I am here right now, tangled up in soft lips and the divine frenzy of first love.

There is something there, lurking on the edges of my mind as I lose myself in the feel of Edward not letting go – not letting _me_ go – and not pulling back. I can't keep from falling in, and soon, Edward is replaced by something else entirely.

_It shimmers and shakes, not quite tangible, but sheer and waiting to happen. I am lying on the earth in a vast field beneath a tree and all I can smell is the tang of dried earth and the spice of bark. It is a beautiful day, but I am afraid of something. __It__ is coming and I can't stop it. Everything I did, no matter how hard I tried to change the inevitable, my actions only led to where I am meant to be. I look down, noticing my dress – the white dress – and there is blood pooling from a wound in my stomach. It looks as if I did it myself. The sun is rising as I lie here in agony hidden in the shade of the oak tree. I see the knife, thinking it wasn't me who plunged it into my stomach, but I'm too weak now and can't remember his face. I'm slipping away and there is no one here to help me._

_I'm alone and dying and it's just too soon._

I gasp, coming up from Edward's lips with a shiver not from the pleasant coil that has wrapped around me while in his arms.

"Too soon?" Edward asks, looking at me with a hint of disappointment and quite possibly guilt.

_No, Edward, it isn't you, it's me. I think I just had a little interlude of my death, is all._

I shake my head and lie back down, rolling toward him to rest my head on his chest. In my shock, I failed to realize I just caused the other vision I foresaw to come true. Blue flannel sheets, rolling toward Edward, my head on his chest, and his arms around me.

What the hell is going on?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

**Dream a Little Dream**

I just spent one of the most amazing days of my life with Edward, yet all of it is marred by the fact I'm losing my mind. I see things and they happen. I used to read about things like this, finding them utterly fascinating, but now that they're happening to me – I don't know how fascinating they really are as opposed to being terrifying.

I was dying. I know death is the one inevitable thing in a human's life, we all die at some point, but my death looked particularly brutal. I don't know the details, but I was bleeding from a knife wound, that's for sure.

You know the scene in Titanic when Jack Dawson is telling Rose she's going to die an old lady warm in her bed? I want that to be me. I want to be an old – very old, in fact – lady, warm in her bed. Not lying in a field somewhere.

I used to want premonitions when I was younger. I'd pray for dreams of my future husband, and I'd squeal like a dork when I wanted to hear a song only to turn on the radio and have it be playing. I didn't sign up for visions of unnerving shit I don't want to know about. What's the point of living if I already know what happens?

Which leads me to my next question: why? Why now? I already have enough on my plate. I can't figure out what I want to get a degree in when I go to college, let alone these little snippets of future me.

"Bella, I don't think it's normal for smoke to be coming out of the oven like that." My dad startles me, pointing out the fact I've been so lost in my head this evening I've burned the lasagna I prepared.

"Damn it," I mutter, pulling the casserole dish out, waving a pot holder over the smoldering mess. This is what I get for not paying attention. It'll all burn.

"I'll order pizza. You okay, Bells?"

I nod, turning off the oven. "Yeah, I just completely zoned out thinking about college stuff. I'm sorry I burned dinner."

"No big deal. Sausage and banana peppers?"

"Yeah, that sounds good."

After dinner, I fire up my laptop and resume my date with Google, only to become frustrated. There is little to no information online about my problem, at least none I can find. Most of the people I read about have had premonitions their entire lives, not just randomly all at once after eighteen years of nothing. I sigh, closing my browser and shutting everything down, completely exhausted yet wary of sleep.

O-O-O-O-O

_I can't see him anywhere and I twist and turn, adrenaline pumping through my veins making me hyperaware of my surroundings._

_"You'll always be mine." I hear from the right._

_"I was never yours," I scream, trembling and shaking in the rain. I am terrified of him – this man lurking around the twisted branches of the oak tree._

_"That's where you're wrong. So many days I had to sit and watch him touch you, love you – hell, I even watched him fuck you – and it killed me. Seeing that sweet body of yours in the bed of that truck, writhing away beneath him. I knew you wanted it to be me." His voice is soft, demented, and coming from my left. I turn, wishing I could see him better. I am dressed in white, not black, and I can't hide in the shadows like he can._

_"You're sick! I could never want you." My hand closes around the knife handle tightly. I am willing to use it, but hoping I don't have to._

_"Silly girl, I've seen you watching me out of the corner of your eye. I know you liked my gifts. I saw the way you smiled over those daisies. You were radiant that day."_

_I try to remember what he's talking about, but I have no memories, I find. I can't remember why I'm here. I only know that I am here, and I am afraid._

_"But what do I get? What about my pain!" He screams, stepping forward. It's too dark, too rainy, for me to make out his face. The darkest hour is always before dawn._

_"Please just leave me alone," I beg, the bile rising up my throat._

_"He's never coming back. We can be together now, my sweet girl."_

_I muster all the strength and courage inside me, standing up straight and squaring my shoulders. "I will never want you. I don't even know why you bother." Even if I die, I know I'll die honest._

_"You're angering me. You don't want to do that," he warns, his voice shaking._

_"Then be angry. I have nothing left, especially not for you. You aren't half the man he was."_

_"NO!" He roars, rushing at me too quickly for me to react. He knocks me down and I am pinned beneath him, the knife loosened from my grip and lying just out of reach. I kick and punch, scratch and bite, my fear turning to fury. I knee him in the groin, getting just enough of a reprieve to roll away, and I grab the knife and stand on my feet. I didn't want to kill him, but I will._

_"I always knew you'd be a lot of fun," he says, standing up slowly. A chill runs up my spine when I hear the metallic click of a revolver being cocked. He faces me and reveals the gun he had stowed away in his jacket, pointing it directly at me. "Now would you like to do as I say, or do I need to teach you a lesson?"_

_I am no match for a gun, knowing a bullet could kill me faster than I could stab him. I am oddly relaxed, calm even, as I assess the situation. It isn't the gun that scares me most, I realize, but the idea I can ruin the memory of what I shared with my boy. I loved him my whole life it seems, and nothing could ever take that love away, not even my boy himself._

_Underneath the oak tree, I do not sway to the promise of a gun, but to the song of a summer spent loving my man with everything I have to offer: my body, my mind, and my very soul. It is with the memories of sweet kisses and learning and knowing love from the inside out that I defy the twisted man standing in front of me by taking my boy's blade and plunging it into my own flesh._

_"If he can't have me, no one else will," I whisper, pulling out the blade and dropping it to the ground._

I bolt up in my bed, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. I was wrong. It was my choice.

I can't breathe all that well. I did it – or do it. I was sure when I had the premonition that someone else did, but it just isn't so. He may have led me to my actions, but it wasn't him who held the knife that ends my life.

I am sobbing and shaking, wanting this all to stop, but even as I cry, I know it never will. It will only end when my story plays out unless I change it all somehow. How can I change my story when I already know the ending? There is no guarantee me trying to change how it all ends won't be the exact actions I need to take to get there. I punch my pillow in frustration, hating feeling so defenseless against something that is nothing more than a possibility. I can't accept it as fact yet.

It is then my eyes spot the offending white dress lying over the back of my desk chair. I do not think, but spring into action as I stuff my feet into my rain boots and grab the dress along with my truck keys. My dad has already left for work, so I make no move to quiet my feet on the stairs as I run down them and out the front door. This dress is what started it all it seems, the one connection in every vision aside from the one I had about Edward's bed sheets. Maybe if I get rid of it, something will change in the story. I am driving too fast as I wind up at the Goodwill donation box, knowing exactly what I'm going to do. I stuff the dress down the chute, feeling a strong sense of relief as soon as it is out of sight and out of my possession. I can't wear the dress if it's no longer mine.

I'm not going down without a fight. Change may just be easier than I thought.

O-O-O-O-O

"You know, I could always help you do that," Edward says, eating strawberries as soon as I get them cut up.

"You keep your hands out of them," I warn, smacking his fingers playfully.

"Strawberry shortcake is my favorite dessert. I can't help it."

_I know_, I think to myself. _Why do you think I'm making it?_ Edward's 19th birthday is tomorrow and while he swears he doesn't want anything, I'm still making him dessert. I just have to help the bitter, out-of-season strawberries along by letting them sit in a little bit of sugar overnight. Of course, I wanted to surprise him, but Edward insisted he spend the day with me. I don't mind at all.

Everything has been nice the last several days. I haven't had any more dreams or visions since I got rid of the dress, so I am taking this as a good sign. Edward has been with me every single day and I can't say I'm not exhilarated by the way he can't seem to keep his hands off me. His touches are innocent enough, but the kisses we share leave me burning and wanting everything like a blatant hussy. Every girl deserves an Edward Cullen, as far as I'm concerned.

"What are you thinking about, Clementine?"

"Kissing you," I answer, no longer afraid to admit I want him. It's pretty apparent the attraction is mutual when he has his mouth on mine every chance he gets.

"What about them?"

"How you need to step up your game, Cullen," I tease, setting the bowl of sugared-up strawberries in the fridge.

He's quiet as I wipe off the counter and set my knife and cutting board into the sink. When I go to turn on the water, I am startled by the sudden feel of his hands on my hips and his chest pressed flush against my back. My hair is in a ponytail today, so the stubble on his chin grazes the sensitive skin of my shoulder as he kisses just below my ear. "Like this?" he whispers before dragging the tip of his tongue along the curve of my ear.

I moan involuntarily and his hands tighten on me, pulling me firmer against him. I can't think, only feel, as he slides the strap of my tank top off my shoulder, trailing warm, open mouth kisses across my skin. He works slowly, maddeningly slow, from my shoulder to my neck.

"Is this okay?" he asks, sucking lightly, not enough to mark me, but enough to set my body alight.

I nod, gasping when his hands slide underneath my shirt, roaming over my stomach. He's so warm and seductive. "How about this?" he asks again, sliding his hands higher until they reach the curves of my breasts.

I think I'm going to die and go to heaven right in this very moment. It is a happy place, all safe and warm in Edward's arms, his hands and mouth on me. I turn to face him, wanting to taste him and see his eyes. Heat pools between my legs when I see his desire and the way his chest rises and falls with deep, heavy breaths.

"Kiss me." It comes out in one small command and he listens with a hard press of his lips that I match fervently. His lips and tongue are all fresh mint and perfect, meeting me halfway and going one step farther. His hands are strong, purposeful, and I whimper against his kiss when he lifts me onto the counter and settles himself between my legs.

"So beautiful," he says softly, peppering kisses across my collarbone. I lean my head back and close my eyes, giving myself over to the sensations, wanting more and more, unafraid of what that may mean.

The sound that escapes me when I feel him slide the stretchy fabric of my tank top away from my breast only to cover me with his mouth is loud, wanton. My fingers lace through the soft hair at the nape of neck and I hold him against me harder. He suckles and licks, biting gently on the sensitive peak, and my mind escapes to a place where only Edward and I exist. I have never felt anything quite like this and I fear I'm going to explode when he presses his hard places against my soft. I anchor myself to the counter with both hands, pulling him closer with my legs, circling my hips against his. The thin fabric of my yoga pants allows me to feel so much yet not enough, and I'm so close to telling him to take me upstairs so I can see and feel every part of him.

I hear the front door close and it's as if cold water has been thrown on the two of us. Edward rips his body away from mine and stumbles back to sit in a chair. I adjust my clothes just in time for my dad to turn the corner.

"Hey, Bells," he says, even though he's staring at Edward. "I'm going to have to start charging you rent, Mr. Cullen."

I laugh and it sounds thin, fake, but I run with it anyway. "Dad, stop."

"What are you two up to today?"

"Nothing much, really. I was working on Grandma Swan's strawberry shortcake recipe and Edward's just keeping me company."

Charlie doesn't look like he believes me, and even though I am technically an adult, I still live under his roof and have to respect him. "Well, I'm going fishing over on the reservation. Sue's supposed to stop over to drop some things off. You going to be here?"

"Yeah, I'll be here."

"Alright, well, I'm going to get changed and get going then. I'll be home sometime in the morning."

"Okay."

Charlie nods and makes his way upstairs. I breathe out a sigh of relief. "Well, that was eventful."

Edward laughs. "I thought I was going to piss my pants. Did you see the way he looked at me? He needs to talk more or shave off the mustache. Then maybe I won't feel like a scared little bitch when he's around."

I crack up. "He isn't that bad!"

"You're his daughter. Of course you don't see it."

"You're silly."

We hear the shower start and Edward walks over to me, kissing me lightly. "I should get going. I still have to hang up all the Independence Day decorations for my mom. You coming to the barbeque?"

"I think I can manage that."

"Good. I want you there with me." My mind chooses to forget the rest and zones in on 'I want you'. _I want you, too, Edward Cullen. In more ways than I think I'm aware of right now._

"Then I'll come." _Yes, I definitely want to come_. I blush when I think that.

"One of these days you're going to tell me all the things that go on in that head of yours, Clementine."

"I'd rather show you," I say without thinking.

"_Jesus Christ,"_ he mutters under his breath before kissing me hard. "I'll call you later."

"Okay."

I spend my afternoon finishing baking the shortbread and cutting out perfect circles with a cookie cutter. I want everything to look like a food editorial in a last ditch effort to impress Edward in some way. I smile and hum a song, remembering the way his tongue and teeth felt on me. I'm so full of love and desire for that boy it feels like I could burst at any given moment. I can barely imagine what it will be like if we actually do all the things I want to do with him. I don't think I ever want to get used to him because this nervous energy feels essential to me. The excited ache of wanting him so much I can hardly stand it is one of the best parts of our dynamic. I don't care about next week or next month or next year. I don't care if this all falls through eventually. What's happening between us right now is all that matters. Yes, it would be incredibly hard to go back to being without him, but like Dr. Seuss taught me long ago, I won't cry because it's over, but I'll smile because it happened.

I dance around the kitchen as I sweep the floor, cleaning up the flour incident I had while making the shortbread. I am happier than I've ever been. At least, as far back as my memory goes. I've had some awesome times in my life, but creating these new things with Edward is so much sweeter than I ever remember things being. I spin in a circle and grab the dust pan as I sing a song horribly out of tune, but I don't care. I'm in love and I'm pretty damn certain Edward at least _likes_ me back.

My phone vibrates and chirps on the counter top, alerting me to a new text. I open it up, laughing when I see a picture from Edward. The Cullen house has been transformed into a patriotic, All-American monument. I can smell the hamburgers and the sulfur from sparklers just from looking at it. Red, white, and blue has thrown up all over outside of the house, complete with little American flag lights lining the porch.

_Tell me I don't have mad skills with a staple gun_, the text says and I laugh.

_You have mad skills with a staple gun. Now send me a pic of the best part – B_

A few seconds later her replies. _Huh?__–__E_

_YOU, silly – B_

I finish cleaning up my small pile of flour, emptying out the dust pan into the trash bin. I put everything away and start making a sandwich for my dinner, not bothering to cook anything with Charlie being gone. I sit at the table and stare out the small window, eating turkey and cheese while thinking of the day Edward made me lunch when he texts me back. I open the text and almost choke.

He's standing in front of a bathroom mirror in, obviously taking a picture of his reflection. The best part, though, is he's all wet and in nothing but a towel. I can't even…

He has the V. The indentions low on his torso seeming to serve no other purpose than marking a path to bigger and better things. His shoulders are broad and filled out with lean muscle and his hair is damp, hanging over his eyes. My reaction to this picture is visceral and I know for a fact I want to do dirty, filthy things to Edward when he's all wet from a shower. Like dry him off with my tongue perhaps. Or my own skin. Either way works for me.

_Had to shower first. Can't be sending you dirty texts – E_

_Oh, you witty, dirty boy, _I think to myself. I can be witty and dirty, too, I think.

_Only thing bad about this picture is the towel being in the way – B_

The only reply I get is a smiley face. Heh. I give myself a pat on the back for that one.

I stuff the last bit of my sandwich into my mouth right as the doorbell rings. I chew quickly and answer, smiling when I see Sue Clearwater's familiar face.

"Hey, Sue. Charlie said you were stopping by."

"Yeah, I just wanted to drop off a few things on my way back home," she says, handing me a big brown paper bag.

"How have you been?"

"Good. Harry and the kids are doing fine."

"That's good to hear."

"There's a little something for you in that bag, Bella. I'm so proud of you. I'm sorry I couldn't make it to your graduation, but I couldn't get out of work."

"It's fine," I say, knowing the Clearwater's don't have much now that Harry is on disability after his heart attack last year.

"Alright, well I have to run. It was good seeing you," she says, giving me a hug.

"You, too."

She leaves and I already know one thing that's in the bag. I can smell Harry's fish fry from a mile away. It tastes like heaven on fish, but it's a strong concoction of whatever it is he puts in it. He sells it at the general store in La Push now that they're short on cash, but Charlie and I have the hook up.

Sue works at a souvenir shop down by First Beach that sells handmade Quileute jewelry and what not. She knows I love that stuff and never fails to give me a new necklace or scarf every birthday and Christmas. I love the scarves they dye by hand, all of them one of a kind. I have a ton of them to choose from whenever the mood strikes me to wear one.

I take out the lidded Tupperware bowl of Harry's fish fry and stick it in the freezer before grabbing two glass jar candles out of the bag. I have no idea what the scents are, but they smell really good. There is one more thing in the bag and I smile when I see a parcel wrapped in the familiar brown paper from the souvenir shop with the Quileute seal stamped on it. Sue knows me well. I rip open the package to see my new scarf only to drop everything and scream, fear shooting up my spine. I stumble and fall, but not before kicking the half opened package away as I back up into the wall.

I wrap my arms around my knees and sob near hysterics as I stare at the white dress that somehow found its way back to me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

**Seeing Stars… Among Other Things**

My night was restless at best. I'm sitting on the couch counting down the hours until it is time to go to Edward's. I'm not the biggest fan of coffee, but it has the chemicals I need to keep my blood going. I was too afraid to fall asleep which left me nodding off and jolting awake every hour. My eyes burn and my body has a disconnected feeling, but I can't shut my mind off. I want to be angry with Sue for buying that dress, but she wouldn't have known. My mother didn't know she was bringing me something that would cause such an upheaval in my life. I have no idea what to make of anything, but I don't know what else to do other than enjoy however much more time I have left.

It could be years, I think, because Edward was different somehow – older – but the details are less about what I saw and more about the feelings evoked within me. Terror, elation, longing, sadness – everything my heart could possibly feel was wrapped up in those dreams and visions.

What if my life really is cut short much too soon? It's a morbid thought, but I think I've come to terms that it is me dying and not someone I love, like my parents or Edward.

Edward dying. I can't even think about that. He not being in this world is not something I can stomach.

The thought of Edward in any harm sends an ache through me that only has one cure. No matter how crazy my life is getting at the moment, the only thing that makes me forget about it all is Edward. The way he looks at me and touches me and kisses me makes everything else – no matter how serious or foreboding they may be – melt away. There is no time running out or big decisions needing to be made; it's just he and I indulging in the fact there is something between us. I used to scoff at those who believed in chemistry between people, but now I know they aren't so crazy. Even down to the way he smells, Edward draws me in like a moth to a flame.

With that in mind, I am no longer tired, but ready to go see about a boy who is probably still curled up in his bed sleeping, safe and sound. I smile at the thought of Edward all relaxed and warm wrapped up in those sheets. He has a mighty big bed for just one person. I know there is plenty of room for me.

I try not to blush at my thoughts when I dress in a skirt and my favorite pair of panties. You know, just in case. Apparently, I'm bringing strawberry shortcake _and _dessert.

O-O-O-O-O

After a breakfast consisting of shortcake, strawberries, and whipped cream, I crooned a tuneless rendition of happy birthday to Edward, laughing and blushing the entire time. He was a good sport about it all, lying through his teeth by telling me my voice was almost as amazing as my superb baking skills.

We are in his bed, him propped against the headboard and me lying with my back against his naked chest. I don't ever want to move from this very spot. Being smooshed against Edward half undressed is enough to take me to a happy place filled with rainbows and singing sparrows. I have no idea what a sparrow song sounds like, but it sounds happy enough. Happy enough to broach a topic lurking on the edges of my mind at all times now.

"Do you believe people can tell the future?"

"What – like a psychic or something?" Edward asks, playing with my hair.

"Something like that. Premonitions."

"I guess it could happen. I mean there've always been some notable people throughout history that predicted events. My mom drove to California and paid to see Sylvia Browne once."

Me and Sylvia go way back. Her books and I, anyway. "I am so jealous of your mom right now."

"Mom wouldn't ever tell us what Sylvia said to her."

"I probably wouldn't share. I'd be too embarrassed if it all fell through."

"I already know your future anyway, so there's no reason to hide it."

I laugh, falling into a warm stupor as his fingers massage my scalp. "What's my future, Edward?"

"Well, Madam Clementine, your future is bright. You are lying on a bed with a mildly attractive guy and soon he will kiss you senseless, making you forget everything that makes you sad."

I'm smiling so big my cheeks are starting to hurt. "Is that so?"

"Yep."

I flip over onto my stomach, but Edward has other ideas, and he rolls me over and pins me beneath him. His fingers are light against my ribs, tickling me until I giggle like the girl in love I am.

"You have the cutest little nose, Clementine."

"Ha! My nose?"

He nods, before pressing a kiss to the end of it. "It's one of my favorite parts. I could stare at it all day."

"Oh, whatever," I say, smacking his chest lightly but it's really just an excuse to touch his bare skin.

"Ssh. I'm having a moment with your nose. Don't interrupt. It's rude. I'll get to your lips in a minute," he says quickly with a grin.

His eyes go cross as he stares at it and I can't help the laughter that bubbles up inside of me. He hasn't even kissed me – just my nose – and I'm already forgetting about all the bad. I am light as air and Edward is gravity, holding me close and in place so I don't lose my grip on this world. It hits me like a ton of bricks that I am giddy and no other feeling ever could top the way I feel right now. It is not sexual or selfish – but warmth and comfort and awe and selfless all wrapped up into one. Edward is now staring into my eyes and I could almost cry because I see something familiar flashing in them. Recognition. We're on the same page.

"I wish – " he stop midsentence, looking away before dipping his head down to my shoulder.

"What do you wish?" I ask softly, curious and on the verge of something I have no idea what.

He drags his lips across my skin, kissing my neck and up over my jaw before placing a quick, chaste kiss on my lips. He tastes like strawberries today. "I wish I met you first."

My heart does a flip flop and my throat strangles with too many emotions at once. No one has ever said anything as close to perfection – even though it's a little sad – to me. I don't know how to react to his words other than to show him how I feel.

I lean my head to the side just enough to capture his mouth with mine, and kiss him with the passion of every word inside me left unsaid. I kiss him for the smiles he has brought me just by being the sweet boy who makes me hurt in the best way possible. I kiss him for the way he touches me without any thought other than to touch me. I kiss him for stolen moments on kitchen countertops that cause my body to light up in ways I never thought possible. I kiss him for silly jokes that make me laugh and cherry snow cones at the park. I kiss him for sending me pictures of him that teach me just how potent love and lust can be when working together. Most of all, I kiss him for being him.

When my shirt is lifted over my head and Edward's hands cover me, I am not Bella Swan the girl who is falling apart in mind and on the inside. No, I am just a girl who loves a boy and is in awe and lost in the sweetest of moments. So lost I am in a beautiful place where nothing else exists other than what is in my heart and the ways Edward's hands and mouth make me crave the greatest of heights.

He's aroused and lets me know it when he pushes against me, seeking friction. I'm not shy or caught up in nerves, but open and ready to anything that might happen. I've never been so aware of my body and how many different sensations it is capable of until Edward grinds against me, touching and tasting and taking. Maybe it is love that makes this different from everything I've experienced before, but the only thing I'm certain of is nothing else before could compare to this.

My legs hook around his hips and I move, not knowing or even caring if it's right. All I can feel is Edward's skin against mine and the way he seems to instinctively know how to make me fall into an oblivion I never want to find my way back out of. I press him firmer against me and listen to his soft groans and heavy breaths with a foreign satisfaction as we rock against each other, holding too tight and not tight enough. I can feel it begin in my lower belly, the hot coiling that makes me wind up and spin out, losing my bearings in the greatest way possible. I can hear Edward's voice whispering my name, adding fuel to the fire burning up the fuse. When Edward tenses and groans my whole body seizes up and all I can do is silently chant the one phrase I can't say just yet: _I love you, I love you, I love you…_

That bomb I was always afraid of going off between Edward I? Well, it finally detonated. Exploded. Oblivion. Obliterated. Me – gone. And all I want right now is to be put back together only for it to explode all over again. And maybe again after that.

"Fuck," Edward says breathlessly against my shoulder, rolling away from me to lie on his back.

"Yeah." I have nothing else to say as I breathe in and out, my body trembling in the aftermath.

"I, um, need to take a quick shower. Will you be alright alone for ten minutes?"

"Yeah, go ahead. I don't think I can move right now."

Edward laughs lightly and stands up, walking over to his dresser to pull out some clothes. He throws me a quick smile before leaving me alone. I put my shirt back on and run my fingers through my hair, reliving the way Edward looked and sounded just minutes ago. I could feel his muscles and the way his body is built, so strong and perfect. I smile when I think about what I'll find beneath all those clothes and I am very aware of the fact he's getting naked right now in the bathroom.

When I hear the shower start, I laugh out loud. In my post coital fog, I am rendered immature. _I made Edward jizz in his pants…_

I love this day.

O-O-O-O-O

I am showered and in my favorite pair of pajamas as I sit on my bed and answer an email from my mother. She has written me a ton of stuff about the horse ranch Phil's family owns, explaining how a mare she helped raise was sold and it made her cry. My mother may be a little on the flaky side, but she has a heart of gold. Her bouts of angst explain the lengthy email, and I write to her about happy things, like my first kiss with Edward. I can't help but gush about how amazing Edward is and how happy he makes me. I tell my mom everything for the most part, but I haven't told her a word about what's been happening between him and me these past several weeks. So here I sit, catching up by writing her an epic and waxing poetic about how sweet Edward is, telling her about toe-curling kisses and the way he says the most romantic things ever without even trying to.

The only things I leave out of my email are the dreams and me hating that she brought me the dress. And I wouldn't dare mention Edward having the power to give me an orgasm without even being fully naked. I might be eighteen and my mother might be ridiculously open with me, but I'm just not ready (or willing) to share things like that with anyone. I hit 'send' on my email and look up, staring at the garment still half inside the package Sue wrapped it in. I really should just burn it, but how would I explain my reasons to my father or my neighbors who will most likely place a call to Forks police department and send my father anyway? The Cullens have a bonfire at their 4th of July shindig. I could probably burn it there, but I just don't want people to think I'm crazy. I feel crazy and have visions to prove this matter, but I'm paranoid about other people knowing. The thought of spending any amount of time in a white room with padded walls makes me shudder.

As if it will grow teeth and bite me, I cautiously pick up the package and remove the dress, laying it flat on my bed. It is simple lines and superb stitching, not a loose thread in sight, and the material is incredibly soft. There is little detail to be found, but the cut is perfect for my body. There is nothing particularly appealing about the dress – it's incredibly plain – but somehow it is beautiful in its simplicity, even though I hate it. I search for a tag, but do not find anything, not even a mark to show there was ever a tag to begin with. I am left frustrated yet again. The least I could have done was hang out with Google and see if I could find the brand. It's stupid really because where the dress came from doesn't matter at all. It is when and where I'll be wearing this dress in the future that matters. It is also what terrorizes me to no end.

I want to have a vision. I want to have one of me somewhere near a calendar so I can find the date of when my death occurs and have my dad hide me in a jail cell down at the station until it passes. If I told him it was for school research in some random psychology class that I'll probably make up, I bet he wouldn't even bat an eye at the idea. Hell, I don't even know if I'll still be in college when all of this is supposed to happen. Really, though, what's the point of these visions if I am powerless to stop them? Am I supposed to be afraid for the remainder of my life, wondering what lurks around every corner and being paranoid? It isn't so hard right now because I know I'm older by at least a couple years in these dreams, but what kind of mindset am I going to be in when things get closer?

Maybe this is the point. Don't waste your time because you don't know how much time you have left. Of course, there is the latter. Maybe this is all meant to drive me completely bonkers until that fateful day occurs.

I kill myself because of that guy, whoever he is. But the one thing, the one detail keeping me sane is knowing I do it because I wasn't about to let him ruin anything Edward I share or shared. I couldn't let whatever that guy had planned for me taint my memory of Edward. This alone makes me happy because even if the future looks grim, it means I'll have Edward, right?

Assuming all of this happens. I'm still hoping I'll wake up and realize these things happening aren't even close to being real. Except for the Edward part. I don't want to give any part of him up. I used to love him in such an unselfish way, but now that I know the reality of him, I just want to revel in it.

A shiver runs up my spine when flashes of our afternoon flit through my mind. He was warm and strong and sure and I can still taste his kiss and recall with perfect clarity the way his breathy groans sounded. I've had pretty heavy make-out sessions before, but nothing could even come close to those I've had with Edward. It isn't the actions that are so different with Edward – there's only so many ways one can engage in physical activities with another person – but it _is_ the emotions that leave me reeling even hours later. Nothing sends me into a tailspin quite like Edward's presence. Just being near him is enough to wake me up, but to have the full potency of all his attention directed at me is mind blowing. I have no desire to think about anyone else because there will never be another Edward Cullen in my life time.

I can pinpoint down to the very moment I realized I love Edward. I was thirteen and embarrassed to be seen that morning, having left school early the day before to get my braces put on. I told Charlie in my young adolescent girl 'oh my god I'm going to die, my life is over!' way that I was never going to smile again because I would be damned if people called me metal mouth or brace face. I waited for most of the kids to get into the building so I could avoid talking to anyone (this makes no sense to me now that I'm older) and have them discover my dental secret. It was January and there was ice and I was clumsy back then. Not only did I have a mouth full of metal, but I also slipped on the ice and spilled my book bag that wasn't quite zipped up. I was going to cry and spontaneously combust – I wasn't sure which – because clearly my life wasn't worth living anymore.

I was trying to fight tears when a pair of scuffed up Nikes came into view. I knew those shoes and to whom they belonged and was cursing the fates for having put him in my path. I had a crush on Edward, but it was the giggly 'he's so fine' kind of crush, and I liked Emmett and my older, more mature friend Jake, too (I was such a hussy back then). Edward leaned down and helped me gather my things without a word, and even though I was upset, I gave him a huge smile.

"Thanks, Edward," I lisped through the wires, only to become horrified I forgot about them.

"No problem. I like your braces. Blue is one of my favorite colors." And with that he smiled and walked away as if my whole world hadn't just stopped spinning on its axis.

Yes, Edward was even nice to me when I was too skinny and had a mouth full of metal. That was the day I forgot about my crush on other boys and focused solely on Edward. He seemed to like every girl but me, so several years later when Emmett wanted to take me out, I let him. Thank goodness it didn't really go anywhere. I may have missed out.

I laugh, remembering all the times I gave Edward pencils in class. We had all of the honors classes together unlike Rose and Emmett, so it was me he asked. He may be smart, but that boy never remembered to bring his own writing utensils to class. I was always prepared though, happy to see one of those little smiles every time he asked for one.

I pick up my phone and text him. _You owe me around 200 pencils – B_

_Oh God. I remember those loans. How about I take you out to dinner and a movie and we call it even? – E_

_Are you asking me out on a date? – B_

_I've seen your boobies. It's the least I can do – E_

I crack up laughing before I text him back. _We'll see. Have a good night! – B_

_Sweet dreams – E_

Yes, sweet dreams. Maybe tonight I'll dream about something I actually want to dream about.

O-O-O-O-O

_The sun is so bright and warm, making the world muggy. I'd be praying for a breeze, but the shade is enough to break up a little bit of the heat. I kick off my boots – tan, leather things that are all broken in and comfortable – and I turn toward the water hole. It's deep and cool and I can't wait to jump in._

"_Let's do it together," she says, lacing her fingers in mine._

"_You're just afraid to do it alone," I chide, wondering where these words and contentment are coming from. I cannot see her face, just a glimpse of blonde hair that swings out behind her. It is joy I feel when we jump into the water, a cool rush that feels divine on a scorching day such as this. Never once does my hand leave hers and we are both laughing as our heads pop up from under the water._

"_I'm so glad you found this place," I call over to the shadowy figure standing beneath a tree in the distance, nothing more than a cigarette visible as he brings it to his lips and takes a drag._

"_Anything for you," I hear softly, knowing there is a smile on those lips I can't get enough of._

"_He loves you so much," the girl beside me whispers with longing in her voice._

"_I know," I say, feeling elated and sad for her at the same time. I don't know why, but words tumble out of my mouth anyway. "Don't worry. He'll be back," I reassure her, even though I'm not so sure myself._

"_I hope so. At least I still have you."_

"_Always," I say, meaning it with my whole heart._

I am not afraid as I wake up. I am not filled with foreboding and sadness. My heart isn't pounding out of fear. No, I am filled with curiosity. I want to know who this girl is. I want to see her face. Her hair was the color of corn silk, much like Lauren's, but I don't know if it was her or not. Much like with everyone else in my dreams, I can't make out faces very well. Every time I start to become aware I am dreaming or having a vision, they go away too quickly. I want to know everything, or at least enough to make sense.

I know how this story ends, but what's the point of all these pieces?


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

**Knee High by the Fourth of July**

It's official. I am now a future student of the University of Washington. It wasn't my first choice, nor was it Edward's, but it is the one place we have in common – the only school both of us applied and was accepted into. In an unspoken agreement, we both enrolled, never once speaking aloud that we made this decision together. There are no labels for what we are. There are no confessions of love between us. We just are, and that's all we need right now. We don't have time between us and we don't have a lot of history, but we do have something palpable that keeps us glued together somehow. It is wonder and excitement and all the possibilities that lay before us.

As I dress for the Independence Day barbeque at the Cullen's, I can't help but remember last night. Edward and I went to the movies in Port Angeles like we did the week before, but there was an edge to us the entire night, something there between us that made us stop in dark alcoves and street corners every chance we got. The idea that I could hunger for another person was always a bit ludicrous to me, but now I know and understand how it's all possible. I understand the ache and need to be near someone because somehow, the whole world seems just a little bit better because that person is with you.

I have spent some time with Lauren in the past week, studying her face to see if she is the girl I saw in my dream, but I'm still not sure. I know she and Tyler are really serious, but I don't know how close we'll all be somewhere in the future when I'm staying in Washington with Edward and she and Tyler are headed for California. I've given up, really, because I don't think I want to know anymore. I just want to love Edward hard and as much as I can. I just hope my death doesn't hurt him too much. He seems resilient enough. It makes me sick to think about it all, but what choice do I have other than to accept what may just be the inevitable?

Denim cut-offs and the newest Old Navy 4th of July shirt I get every year is what I wear along with a new pair of flip flops. I pull my hair back and smile, seeing a cute, almost bubbly 18 year old girl in the mirror, not a world-weary, crazy dream having psycho. My innocent façade is the greatest armor and ally I have in living a relatively normal life for however much longer it goes on.

I love to smile and laugh and eat cheesecake until I'm sick but eat just one more bite anyway. I love to kiss Edward and feel his hands on me and I love to read ee cummings and think about Edward while I do it. I like to watch baseball with my dad not because I give two shits about baseball, but because the way he yells at the screen reminds me of being a kid and him taking me to games. I like to sit in the backseat of Jake's car as he does donuts in the parking lot of First Beach until I'm dizzy and his girlfriend is threatening him with no sex for a week if he doesn't stop. I love to write emails to my mom and tell her all the things I could never say out loud because writing things out is so much easier than saying them sometimes. I love to wrap myself in Grandma Swan's quilt and eat cookies made from her recipe because it reminds me of how warm and loving she was and how proud she was that her son finally gave her a daughter, once removed. I like to go to stupid little parties and drink Boone's Farm with Lauren while watching the other attendees make asses of themselves. I like to see the sunset between the mountains and smell the piney, crisp clean scent of fresh rain falling around Forks. I love to cook dinner and watch those who eat it enjoy it, not because I have a Suzy Homemaker aspiration, but because it makes me feel good to see the people I love content.

There are so many things, no matter how small they are, that make me who I am and no one and nothing can take that away from me. Dreams and visions be damned, I'm going to enjoy my life.

I grab the chipped beef dip I made the night before and the box of club crackers from the pantry, not wanting to go to the barbeque empty handed, and make my way to my truck. I'm a little nervous today because I've never been formally introduced to Edward's parents. Carlisle Cullen is a swoon-worthy doctor who multitasks over at Forks General. He knows I'm athletically disabled and I broke my wrist last year playing volleyball in gym. He set it himself. Esme Cullen is a sweet little thing who bakes killer brownies for the local PTA bake sale and keeps an immaculate home. Other than that, I'm not very familiar with the people who brought the love of my life into this world, but they can't be that bad in 'real life' if they raised someone as amazing as Edward. Dr. Cullen wasn't even pissed off when Edward opted to go to the University of Washington instead of Penn State like some parents might have been. They're all kinds of loving and supportive, so I don't know why I feel like I'm about to be put to some sort of test. I guess it's one of those 'now or never' moments that we all will inevitably face in our lives. I just hope I survive it and make a good, lasting impression on these people.

You know, because they _might_ end up being my in-laws someday. A girl can dream, can't she?

O-O-O-O-O

"You are just too cute, Bella," Esme Cullen gushes, all warm and motherly as she squeezes the air from my lungs.

"Thank you, Mrs. Cullen," I choke out, keeping a smile on my face. Edward is watching me with a smirk, knowing that I had a little in the way of apprehension toward meeting his parents today. He told me I was silly and now I know it seems to be true.

"Just call me Esme, dear. Thank you for making the dip. I'm sure everyone will love it."

"I didn't want to come over and eat your food without bringing something."

"She's even thoughtful," Esme says quietly to Edward, shooting him a wink before she walks inside.

"Well that went well," I say, smiling when Edward catches my hand in his.

"I told you it would. I've got to talk about you to someone."

"That's sweet of you."

"Eh, I'm just trying to butter you up now so you stick around when I become a moody bastard."

I love when he does that, mentions an elusive future. It makes me forget things and gives me the hope I need for another day. My life isn't all dark when Edward continues to be a shining spot in my world. "I don't think I could get sick of you even then."

"Let's hope not," he says quietly, leaning in to steal a kiss. "Want to go see about some hamburgers?"

"Sure."

Dr. Cullen was his normal, hot-in-an-older-Edward-way self as he said hello to me while simultaneously flipping hamburgers on the grill. A man who can divide his attention in two places like that is amazing. I can only hope that Edward inherited his father's skills.

"Did you know they were coming?" Lauren asks me as we sit down at one of the picnic tables. Edward had invited her and Tyler over and they accepted the invitation. I am thankful to have them here to act as a buffer for all the people I don't know.

"Who?" I ask, looking around only to spot Emmett and Rosalie chatting with Esme. I scan the crowd and find Edward talking to Tyler by the banquet table, seemingly unaware of their presence.

"Did Edward know they were coming?"

"He never mentioned it to me if he did." I'm worried about Edward and want to go steal him away, taking him somewhere else but I just take a huge bite of my hamburger instead while hoping for the best possible outcome.

"I never knew you could unhinge your jaw like that. No wonder Edward sticks to you like glue."

I choke on a perfectly grilled beef patty and kick Lauren in the shin for her comment. Edward only knows how well I kiss, thank you very much. Of course, I can't say this because my mouth is way too full and I'm a little embarrassed.

"Hi, Bella. How are you?" I look up to see Rosalie staring at me, her eyes kind but guarded. I wave at her, not really knowing if I should be mad that she hurt Edward or thankful that she got the hell away from him so I finally got my chance.

"What's up, Swan?" Emmett asks, coming up to stand next to Rosalie.

Why is it that when you have a mouthful of food, everyone decides to come talk to you? It never fails, especially at restaurants. I swear waiters and waitresses sit on the sidelines and wait for you to take a gnarly bite before they come over and ask you if everything is good. I look up at both of them and make a show of chewing, trying not to blush.

"Why are you here?" I gulp down a lump of burger and am rendered speechless by the venom in Edward's words. I don't know what to think of it as he seemed to have made some kind of amends with Emmett the day he helped clean out the garage, but maybe I read into it wrong. I stare between them, Edward and the two people who betrayed him deeply, hoping that nothing bad comes of this.

"I saw your mom at the Thriftway yesterday and she told us to come out. I thought it would be okay," Rosalie says, her voice small and her eyes averted to the ground. She can't look at Edward because she knows what she did. I know shame when I see it.

"Maybe you should have asked me. It isn't my mom who has to have something like this thrown in her face." My eyes follow the direction of Edward's and I see the way that Emmett and Rosalie's hands are held tightly together. A united front. Edward is sneering in a way that I've never seen him do. It's the first time I've ever seen anything close to cruelty marring his beautiful face.

"Look, we shouldn't have come. I just thought we were cool, but I guess not. We'll go," Emmett says, putting an arm around Rose. She looks up at Emmett with a small smile. Edward's sneer turns into a scowl.

"No. Allow me." Edward's tone is low, rough, and I don't know what to think as he stalks off, pulling his car keys from his pocket as he goes.

"Em, you should go talk to him. You know how he gets," Rose whispers and for the first time ever, I am jealous of the fact that she may know Edward just a little better than I do.

"Yeah, I also know that he won't listen. I didn't think he was still pissed off."

"He hasn't said a word to me since."

I turn away, unable to listen to them talk about Edward. I can't help but realize that it stings a little too much that he didn't even look at me once before he left me here alone. It's as if the past several weeks never happened and Edward never took the time to get to know me. My heart is beating too fast and it hurts. I don't know what kind of name this feeling has, but I don't like it and it makes me feel sick.

"Are you okay, B?" Lauren asks, staring at me with sympathy.

"Apparently he needs more time," I say quietly, pretending like my heart isn't shattering into a million little pieces. Why couldn't I have had a vision of this? I could have spared myself all of this hope and elation and throwing myself a goddamned pity party to boot.

"I'm sure it's just a shock to him. I don't think he's ever seen them together. Guys are funny like that sometimes. Tyler was like that when Tanya was waltzing around with Quil at homecoming last fall. They'd been broken up for months by then." I love this about Lauren. She knows how to make me feel better, even if it's minute and fleeting.

"Probably," I say, even though everything in me wants to find a dark corner to cry in. I'm not going to do that though because deep down, I know Edward wasn't lying to me when said he wished he met me first.

And my dreams – Edward and I were together, of that I'm fairly certain. Everyone has bumps in the road, right?

O-O-O-O-O

I am walking along the Cullen's property line, trying to keep myself from dialing Edward's number. I feel awkward for staying when he isn't here, but I am more afraid to leave before he returns. It is nearly dark now and the fireworks will be starting soon. I cannot fault him for having a moment when he saw Emmett and Rose together. It would be stupid and selfish of me to think that something that lasted for years would be healed in a matter of weeks. Neither the world nor the human heart works like that. We're all fickle creatures – creatures of habit – so it isn't fair of me to get upset with Edward.

I know this, but my heart is fickle too, and I want him here with me and I want his past with Rose to be erased. It feels like Edward is mine now and it scares the hell out of me that I feel so possessive of him. He faced something painful to keep his word to Mrs. McCarty. I doubt he's the type to string me along for nothing. No, Edward wouldn't do that to me. He's just having a bad day. Not everything can be solved by the presence of another person. Some things just aren't that simple.

A firework explodes in the sky, one that is nothing more than a white flash that isn't all that much to look at but packs a loud boom. Forks counts down the last hour until the rest of the fireworks start by setting one of those off every fifteen minutes. That was the second. I sigh, checking the clock on my phone seeing that it is now a quarter after nine, but really I'm just hoping Edward will at least text me. It doesn't seem like he has been gone for three hours, but he has been. Lauren kept me company for the most part, but she and Tyler started playing couples corn-hole with a group of people who Esme works with. Edward and I could have made asses of ourselves doing the exact same thing if he hadn't bailed. I don't know exactly when I started living for cheesy, mushy moments, but they sound a hell of a lot nicer than this almost pity party I keep trying _not_ to throw for myself.

I lean up against one of the trees dotting the yard and look up at the stars. It's been fair weather for the most part this summer, and I can't help but think that it's more the way I feel inside than the weather itself. Maybe the weak sunlight of overcast days seems a little brighter when I have a reason to run around outside. I notice the blooms because I'm blooming too, whether I like it or not. I'm at an impasse, an in between where I don't know which way to go. There is the clear path that has been paved many times over and there is the path that isn't a path at all as it has yet to be beaten down by those who aren't afraid of the wild. Or muddy shoes for that matter.

I don't want the weight of what everything could or might mean to be sitting on my shoulders. I don't want to see my own death and wonder if I'm going to enjoy my time until I get there. I don't want to be forced into a no way out situation where I feel hopeless enough to end my own life. That kind of thing is too damned heavy to even entertain the idea. I know I'm a good person because I truly do care about people. I go out of my way to ease some of the burden life throws at others, but _what about me?_ Who's going to save me for once? Being selfish is a foreign concept, but I think this situation calls for just a smidge of it.

Darkness has fallen and the third countdown blast erupts in the sky, blinding white and so loud it makes my heart jump. I have no time to adjust or to accept it as everything shimmers and shakes and I am pulled down into a place that is somewhere but here.

"_What do you mean they can't find him!" I scream, unable to fathom what she's telling me. _

"_His outfit was attacked. They haven't found him or his body."_

_I shake my head and clutch my arms against my chest, wanting her to go far far away and take her bad news with her. I can't listen to this. He promised he'd come back to me. He's a man of his word and always has been. _

"_Just leave," I choke out through my tears, unable to feel sorry for the other girl who cries over him. She knows him too, but not like I do. She doesn't love him like I do. Her boy chose to go. There's a difference, I tell myself, but I'm not cruel enough to say that to her. _

"_I'm so sorry," she whispers, walking out of the room and closing the door behind her. _

_I sink to my knees and curse my very heart for not being able to withstand this. I tried to tell him he signed a deal with the devil and he knew I was right only when it was too late. We had options, crazy options, but they were better than this. He stayed because of me and now he has either already paid or will be paying the ultimate price for that mistake. _

"_You come back to me!" I cry, my body unable to contain the pain as I tremble and gasp, trying to do something as simple as breathe. "You promised me!"_

I feel warm hands on my shoulders before I become aware of my surroundings again. I am on the ground clutching my knees with tears streaming from my eyes, the ghost of the pain I felt in the vision still causing a dull ache in my chest.

"I'm so sorry, Clementine."

My head snaps up and I see Edward, his face drawn with worry and regret. I'm desperate to feel him, to feel the relief and know that he is safe, not lost in this world. Rosalie, Emmett, and the events of this afternoon mean absolutely nothing anymore as long as I know that Edward is okay.

"You came back."

"I'm sorry I left you here. I feel like an asshole. Please give me the chance to make it up to you."

I silence him with a kiss, thankful that he's here and real. He's warm and I can feel the pulse in his neck underneath my fingertips, pulling me back from the blackness of my vision with every beat of his heart. _He's fine, he's right here, he's safe, _I chant to myself, clutching him tighter against me.

"You're here."

"I'm right here," he says, holding me to his chest in a way that makes me feel safe.

It's all on the tip of my tongue, all the things I've been holding in and dealing with alone, but I can't force the words out. I can't bring myself to tell him that I'm afraid I'm going to die and that things might not go so well for him either. There was no certainty in my vision, just the deepest of fears and an almost validation. The girl was there again, but I couldn't see her goddamned face because that would all be too simple, wouldn't it?

"Where did you go?" I ask instead, avoiding it all because that seems to be what I'm good at these days.

He laughs hollowly, not the rich sound that I'm used to hearing now. "La Poel. I just needed to think and all I could remember was you taking me there."

"You can talk to me, Edward." I feel like a phony because I can't tell him my deepest thoughts yet I'm asking him to do that for me.

He pulls away from me and stares into my eyes, bringing one of his hands up to brush a few of the tears off my cheek. "Do you want me to be honest?"

My heart plummets and I close my eyes, unable to look at him because I know he's been too upset to hold it together. It's all over his face. "Always."

"I was mad that she looked so happy with Emmett. They looked so cozy and comfortable together and everything in me was raging that it's too soon for that kind of shit." He shakes his head and looks away, shame making him curl in on himself. I would tell him to stop if my heart wasn't cracking in too many places at once.

"I had to get away from it all and clear my head. It's confusing as all hell to see my best friend with a girl who was mine for so long. I was pissed off that they didn't have the decency to spare me having to see it for myself. I'm not going to lie – it hurt." I nod my head, waiting for him to continue even though I want to run away.

"But then I realized how irrational I was being. I'm good at irrational."

The slightest flutter of hope wisps in my chest and I look up. "How were you being irrational?"

He leans into me, warming up my right side as he slides his arm around my shoulder. "As mad and hurt as I was, I could see it all after a little while. Clear as a bell. Rose never looked at me the way she looks at Emmett. I was going to go to Penn state, not U-dub even though that's where Rose is going. I never once thought about compromising for the sake of my relationship with Rose. Two years and I was ready to put thousands of miles between us without consideration."

Edward is holding me so tight and I jump when the fireworks starts, colors bursting across the sky as we sit under a tree. "What are you saying, Edward?"

"I'm saying that I've done more to be close to you than I ever did with her in the years we were together. I can't bring myself to imagine being that far away from you."

I turn my face up to his and he kisses me softly, sweetly, as if I am going to break. "You walked right into my heart, Clementine. Time doesn't mean a damn thing. The people who came before you don't mean a damn thing. All that matters to me is getting to have you."

I gasp at his words, them breaking and healing my heart all in one moment. "Edward, I –"

"I'm falling in love with you. Even if you don't feel the same way back, I'm willing to take all the time in the world until you do." His voice is a whisper and his words are rushed but laced with the finality of truth.

"You have no idea," I say, kissing him because I love him more than I could ever possibly find the words to say.

The visions may be laced with darkness, all kinds of ugly with a penchant for pain, but this moment is perfect and just the kind I'm still living for. Edward is here now, in my arms, and falling off that ledge that I fell off a long time ago. I may be seeing just how black our horizon is going to get, but right now the world is full of color and the validation that Edward's willing to give to me his best part. And I'll do my best to keep it safe.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

**Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice**

Love.

I don't know how to define love with words. It is a look, a touch, a kiss, an action – not something that can be confined in a phrase. Edward is gone today, helping his mother set up a charity event in Port Angeles, but that didn't stop him from leaving a bouquet of delicate white daisies on my porch. I smile like an idiot when I find them, pressing my face into the soft white petals to smell their sweet scent.

I sit them in a mason jar filled with water because Charlie doesn't have a vase, and I sit at the kitchen table and stare. It's a little piece of beauty in an otherwise dreary day. While I've come to love the rain around Forks, days where the world is hazy and grey make me a little sad. The fog coming in off the Olympic Mountains is thick, causing clouds of moisture to hang low on the ground. I would usually spend the day catching up on my 'to be read' list of books, but I don't feel like reading today. In fact, I think it's the perfect time to head over to La Push and get one of those cinnamon iced coffees they sell at the souvenir shop during the summer. Having been in a daze over Edward and everything else, I have neglected to stop by one of my favorite places.

La Push is a sleepy little reservation located on the rocky coast of the Pacific. It's nothing much to look at, just trees and mountains and small houses, but the people here make it amazing. Tradition and a strong sense of family pervade the volatile waters and the beaches that look like a graveyard for fallen trees most days. Especially when the tide is out, La Push is sleepy and quiet, which is nothing short of perfect on a day like today.

The bell above the door jingles when I walk through it, causing Sue and her niece Emily to look up at me with bright smiles. I've always found beauty in their genetic heritage: inky black hair that looks like silk, cheekbones to die for, and a smooth, tan complexion that never seems to break out or look blotchy. Of course, Emily's father was a 'pale face' Irishman (quite the scandal from what I've heard) and she ended up with strange hazel eyes instead of the common brown, but it only adds to her beauty.

"Hey, Bella. Couldn't stay away for long could you?" Emily asks with a laugh.

"Never. Forks only holds my interest for so long."

"Rumor has it that there's a reason you haven't been back for awhile. Care to share?"

I feel heat flash across my cheeks as my whole face crumbles into a sheepish smile at her comment.

"Aw, little Bella's in love! Look at her, Aunt Sue."

"I remember those days. Harry was quite the gentleman. Of course, I had a crush on Billy Black and wouldn't give him the time of day until I realized that Harry was the bees knees. Still is as far as I'm concerned."

"What made you change your mind?" I ask, sitting at one of the stools lining the bar at the deli.

"Billy Black only had eyes for Jake and Rachel's mother and I was getting mighty tired of telling Harry no. I had to give him an 'A' for effort. His persistence won me over and here we are, twenty years later and still in love."

"Sam and I just kind of gravitated toward each other. We've been together for seven years already. I can't imagine my life without him. Everyone thought it was cute because we were only fourteen, but now we're engaged."

I love to hear about love. It's a scary thing, but it happens all over the place, all the time, and in so many different ways. "Well, I've had a crush on him for way too many years and he finally noticed me. I don't know what else to say. Edward's amazing."

"Charlie speaks pretty highly of the – what does he call him, Aunt Sue?"

Sue chuckles. "That _Cullen_ boy."

"Ah, yes, that _Cullen_ boy."

I shake my head. "My dad scares the crap out of Edward. I think he likes that Edward's intimidated or something."

"That's just your dad's way of dealing with the fact that you're a grown woman now. He had a hard time of it when you turned eighteen, but now that you're bringing boys home and going off to college, he doesn't know what to think."

I've noticed that lately, the sadness around Charlie's eyes whenever we talk about college and all the small things, like whether or not I should stay in a single or double. I just attributed it to nervousness that I'll be living alone (technically) in Seattle. I guess I never really thought to consider that maybe Charlie is just as scared as I am. His life will be changing too once I leave home, but it never occurred to me before now. I don't have kids myself, so I'm not sure how it feels to watch my own flesh and blood grow up, but maybe it isn't that easy.

"He's still my number one guy. Charlie and I go way back," I joke, hoping that Sue's tendency to gossip will somehow get my comment back to Dad. Of all the things I feel comfortable in talking to my dad about, feelings aren't one of them. That's where my mom comes in. My parents definitely balance each other out. I smile at that thought and wonder if they ever realized how each carries what the other lacks. Maybe they did at some point, but it all went wrong somewhere along the line. I lost all hope of them ever reconciling their differences long ago, but it's an interesting notion to ponder.

"Here you go, Bella." Sue sits the cinnamon iced coffee down in front of me, knowing why I am here even without me asking. Like I said, she knows me well.

"How much do I owe you?" I ask, pulling some of the money I got for graduation out of my pocket.

"You put that away. Your money is no good here."

"Thanks, Sue."

"No problem. You know, Jake is home for the summer. I bet he'd love to see you. It's been awhile."

"I didn't even know."

"Yep. He spends most of his time in that garage of his, but he should be home. That son of mine is probably over there too. You should go say hi."

"That actually sounds like a great idea. I haven't seen Jake since Christmas. Thanks again for this," I say, motioning toward my coffee. I wave goodbye to the two of them and head out to my truck, ready to make my way over to the Black's house.

Nothing has changed about the small, dark red house that backs up against a thicket of trees. I have a lot of memories here from as far back as I can remember. Even when I came to visit Charlie in the summers, there was still days spent at Billy Black's with Jake and Rachel. Rachel married and moved to Hoquiam and Jake went off to college last year, but there is still this one place that acts as roots for our interwoven childhoods.

I park and walk over to the garage, hearing the radio blaring and the familiar clinking sound of tools being thrown about. I smile, knowing that Jake is taking his love for all things man-made and getting a degree in engineering. I personally think that he's just in love with the idea of getting to wear a hardhat all day, but that's just one theory.

I turn the corner and peek inside the garage, smiling when I see Jake's hulking body stuffed under a car and Seth standing next to him, handing him a socket wrench.

"Hello, gentlemen. Mind if I hang around for a bit?"

Seth looks at me and smiles shyly, always the quiet one, and I can't help but notice that he wears seventeen well. Yeah, I love Edward and he's it for me, but it doesn't mean I'm dead and won't notice the attractiveness of other men from time to time. I am definitely a firm believer in the whole 'you can look, but don't you _dare _touch' policy. I've obviously come to terms with my newfound jealousy issues.

"Hi, Bella."

"Hey, Seth."

"Bells!" I smile instantly because there is just something about Jake that makes the whole damned world smile. He rolls out from underneath the car on one of those boards with wheels, whatever it's called.

"Ah, my wonderful Jakey. What is it exactly that you're doing to this poor car?"

"Well the brake lines are rusted out and the water pump needs replaced, but on this model, I have to remove the damned gas tank to get to it."

"Yeah, okay." I don't know a darn thing about cars and Jake knows this. "I didn't know you were home for the summer. Why didn't you call?"

"I did call, but rumor has it that you've been spending time away from home this summer."

Oh my god. Does Charlie seriously gossip like an old woman? Apparently so. "Yeah, I have been. Just a little bit. Why didn't you try my cell?"

"Who changed their number and never emailed it to me like they said they would?"

Oh yeah. "Sorry about that."

"Sure, sure. So what brings you to this neck of the woods?"

"Bored out of my mind and I wanted one of these," I say, shaking my half empty cup.

"Sorry I didn't come to your graduation. I had a final the next day and not enough money for the gas to come back twice in one week."

"It's not a problem. It was kind of dull, actually."

"I felt the same way when I graduated. Everyone makes it sound like such a big deal, but when it actually happens all you do is walk across a stage and watch everyone cry because they realize the guy they never talked to in gym won't be around anymore."

I laugh, loving the way Jake knows how to make light of things that can be heavy without coming across as harsh. "Yeah, I had a moment like that. Jessica Stanley was our valedictorian and I almost felt bad that I didn't try to be her friend more often."

"That's the chick who accused you of trying to steal her boyfriend, right?" I also love Jake's steel trap mind.

"That would be the one. I don't think she realized she was dating a complete jackass, but hopefully he grows out of that."

"You don't realize how attractive you are to dudes, Bells. Other chicks can sense that kind of thing."

I laugh lightly, slightly embarrassed that Jake gave me a compliment like that. "Whatever."

Jake, Seth, and I are sitting on the front porch steps, catching up when my phone vibrates from a text message.

_I'm halfway back to Forks. Can I stop by? I got you a present. – E _

I feel kind of bad that I'm instantly ready to ditch my friends, but I justify it in my mind with the fact that Jake once left me at the beach alone for two hours so he could go do the dirty with his girlfriend at the time. I didn't have a car yet and he'd even promised Charlie to watch out for me, but he shirked his responsibilities in the name of getting off.

_I'm in La Push, but I'm leaving now. I should be there or will be there soon. Don't text and drive. – B_

"Let me guess – you have to go because something has suddenly come up?" I look up at Jake and he's smirking at me with a knowing look.

"Shut up, Jake. It's new and it's good, okay?" I can't tell him how much I love Edward and how scared I am that everything is going to be washed down the drain much too soon.

Jake puts up his hands and laughs. "It's all good, Bells. Tell him if he breaks your heart I'll be there in a hot minute."

"Yeah, sure. It was good to see you both," I say, smiling at Seth who never really says much but is sweet nonetheless.

"Have a nice evening, Bella," he replies quietly, looking down at his feet instead of making eye contact. I want to pinch his cheeks, but I don't.

Jake stands up and drapes his huge arm across my shoulder, giving me a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "You like flowers, right? Dinner and a movie?"

I laugh, pushing his arm off of me. "You're such a dork. Call or text me when you can."

"I will."

The ride back to Forks was short because I may have been speeding slightly, wanting to beat Edward to my house so I could brush my teeth to get the coffee off my breath. I am light, bubbly, excited, and slightly out of breath from rushing around when I see Edward pull into the gravel parking space out front. He's all dressed up today and I'm smiling like an idiot because he's wearing pressed khakis and a black, short sleeve button down that makes him look like a hot Bible salesman coming to meet a lonely housewife. Blasphemous thoughts, yes, but Edward does that to me. He grins lazily and runs his fingers through his hair and holds a simple brown paper bag in his free hand. He hasn't seen me yet because I'm peeking around the edge of the curtain, so I'm hoping that smile is because he's happy to be here.

I fling the door open before he has the chance to knock and that smile on his face just grows bigger when I grab the hem of his shirt and pull him toward me, unable to wait any longer to kiss him. He tastes like Altoids and Edward and his mouth on mine is my favorite kind of icing on top of an already good day.

We're both breathing heavily when we finally break apart, the elation in my chest a slow burn because he's near me. "Hi," I whisper, loving the way his eyes are hooded and filled with a hunger that has nothing to do with food.

"I should spend the day with my mom more often if this is what I get afterward."

"Yeah, maybe."

"May I come in?"

I laugh, realizing that we're still standing in the doorway. "Sure." I step aside, letting him into the living room. "Do you want something to drink?"

"No, I'm good. So what did you do in La Push?"

"Nothing much, really," I say, taking a seat on the couch next to him. "Jake's home from school and Sue and Emily are the same as always. Apparently the news of 'that _Cullen_ boy' is spreading around the reservation like wildfire."

"Oh god," Edward groans, laying his head on my shoulder. "Either your dad hates me for real or he has a funny way of showing his fondness."

I rest my cheek against his hair, giddy because we're at a point that we can just sit all wrapped up together as if it's the most normal thing in the world. "Charlie likes you just fine. He told me himself that you're a good kid."

"My parents like you too, especially my mom. She never liked Rose much, so I guess she's really excited that I finally got it right this time. She even let me leave early because she knew I couldn't wait to get back to you."

Who's a happy girl? Bella's a happy girl. I kiss his perfect forehead for that one. "I didn't know what to do with myself so I decided to go make an appearance so no one thought I'd been kidnapped. I used to spend every waking moment in La Push during the summer, but I haven't been back once since graduation. I wonder why."

Edward chuckles. "Yeah, codependency isn't healthy. You know this right?"

"I don't even care right now."

"Me either."

It's been almost a week since Edward's confession about falling in love with me, but I haven't told him how I feel yet. It isn't that I'm afraid to, but more that I don't want to rush him into anything that he isn't ready for. I know it wasn't easy for him to come to grips with everything and say those sweet, perfect words to me, so I am content to just take my time and let things evolve naturally. For the most part. There are other parts of me that are scared we don't have enough time and that I'm wasting what we do get, but I'd rather just sit with him all curled up on the couch than have him running out the door because I laid it on him too thick.

"Want to see what I got you?" He asks, looking up at me and raising those wild eyebrows of his.

"I don't know. Do you think I'll like it?"

"Them." He corrects me. "And I hope you do. I stopped by a bookstore a few blocks away from the event when we all took a lunch break. They reminded me of a conversation we had the other day and I thought you might like them."

Edward hands me the bag and I take it, opening it to reveal a box set of Tarot cards with beautiful, watercolor faeries painted on them. "Oh my god, Edward. These are so nice."

"I'm glad you like them."

I'm touched because not only was he thinking about me enough to buy me a gift, but he bought me something thoughtful. It's a small gesture compared to some, but it shows me that he listens to what I say and takes it into consideration.

"Now you can tell the future," he says, pressing a kiss to my temple.

_I don't think I want to tell the future_, I say silently to myself. "Maybe I should just do a reading for you."

He shakes his head. "I don't want to know my future. What's the point of living if you know what's going to happen? It doesn't sound very fun to me."

"You have no idea," I mumble, sitting the cards down on the coffee table, suddenly needing to change the subject. "Did you meet the quota at the fundraiser?"

"Yeah, we did. Even went a few grand over. Lots of people willing to spend their money on a good cause today. Mom was happy about it."

"Did you meet any cool people?"

"Huh."

"What?"

"It's kind of funny that you'd ask that. I met a career military guy there."

My stomach kind of does this thing where it feels like it's turning inside out, but I don't let it be known. "Really?"

"Yeah. He even talked to my mom about it all. He wasn't a recruiter or anything, but I think he may have swayed her opinion on everything."

"Do you still want to join the Navy?"

"I've always wanted to. Maybe be a pilot. This guy started out as a marine though. His stories and the respect he has for it all just makes me want to join all the more."

"Do you think this is something you'll decide soon?" I can feel sweat prickling on my skin, my nerves starting to fray a little.

"I don't know. I've decided on a university and everything, so maybe next summer. Basic training is like 9 weeks or something like that. I'd have to have the time to do that without it screwing up other stuff."

"Well, I think you should do what feels right." _Because I'm supportive and I don't want you to resent me. _

"I'm just glad I have you talk to about it. It's a big decision to make."

"Yeah it is." _Of that, I can agree._

"I wouldn't decide something like that without talking to you about it first. You know that right?"

"Thank you for being considerate, but it's your life, Edward."

"Yeah, it is my life, but you're a big part of my life now. I don't want to agree to something and have you be upset about it."

I smile at him because I saw the eagerness shining off of him while he talked about joining the military. I just witnessed firsthand how excited it makes him to do something as simple as _think_ about signing up. As selfish as I want to be, I can't ask him to change or give up something he seems to want so much. This was a part of Edward long before I was. I can't tell him not to do it based on things that may or may not happen.

"I think that I'll be fine with whatever you decide. As long as you can call me and send letters and emails, we'll get through it."

The smile he gives me lights up his whole face and breaks my heart just a little bit. "I wouldn't do it anytime soon, but it feels good to know you have my back. It's kind of romantic to think I'll have a girl waiting for me at home while I'm out there doing what I need to do for my country."

I laugh and shake my head. "Romantic? Seriously?"

"I'm a romantic guy. I have no shame in admitting that." He shrugs his shoulders and leans back into the couch cushions, looking like the epitome of relaxed. I envy him his unworried mind.

"Romantic like leaving a girl flowers on her front steps, right?" I say, thinking about the daisies.

"I could probably do that. What kind of flowers do you like?"

_Do what?_ "I was talking about the daisies you left me this morning."

Edward's brows pull together and he shakes his head. "I didn't leave you flowers this morning. I was actually running late because _someone_ kept me up half the night on the phone."

"That is so weird. Maybe someone else left them then." I roll my eyes at myself as soon as I say those words. _Thank you, Captain Obvious._

"Yeah. Maybe it was McCarty or something. He lives close enough."

"Why would Emmett leave me flowers?"

"I don't know. You two used to hang out. Maybe it was some kind of peace offering after the whole barbeque incident."

"Emmett doesn't even say 'excuse me' when he burps. I don't think he's the type to get up that early and leave me flowers. Maybe it was Charlie. Definitely out of character for him too."

"Let me know when you find out. I'm a little jealous that I didn't think of it first."

_And I'm freaking out just a little bit._ "I will."

"I need to head home and take a shower. I got a little sweaty today and I swear I stink. I don't know how you can stand to be near me."

"Pheromones, Edward. I'm infinitely attracted to the way you smell, thank you very much."

"You smell sweet yourself, Clementine."

He kisses me, slow and sweet, before he leaves and I watch from the front porch as he drives away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Something is up and I don't know what the hell it is, but I'm about to figure it out.

I walk into the kitchen to stare at the flowers as if they'll tell me something I need to know, like who in the frick left them on the porch for me…

If only they were on the table where I left them.

"What the hell?"

Panic sets in and I look around, trying to remember if I moved them or not, but they're nowhere to be found. I look in the trash can to find the pink paper they were wrapped in, but the only thing in it is my banana peel from this morning. I look in the cabinet and find the mason jar, bone dry and sitting in its place as if I never touched it.

"Oh my god!"

Terror seizes me and I grab the biggest knife Charlie owns out of the block on the counter and walk through the house, turning every light on as I go. I know I locked the door because I always jiggle the knob to make sure the lock caught, just the way Charlie taught me to do when I was younger. I make it to my bedroom where my cell phone is and pick it up, pressing my back against the wall because I feel safer that way.

And that's when I notice the dress, out of the bottom drawer I stuffed it into, folded nice and neat and sitting upon my comforter where it _wasn't_ the last time I was in my room just an hour before. I scream, but everything falls away as a fragment of one of the dreams that have been plaguing me assaults my mind.

"_You're sick! I could never want you." My hand closes around the knife handle tightly, and I am willing to use it but hoping I don't have to. _

"_Silly girl, I've seen you watching me out of the corner of your eye. I know you liked my gifts. I saw the way you smiled over those daisies. You were radiant that day."_

I'm gasping and retching when I open my eyes, adrenaline and blood pounding through my veins. I look down at my hand and see that I'm clutching the butcher knife the same way I was holding the other knife in the dream and I loosen my fingers, letting it drop. _No, no, NO!_

I don't know how I do it so quickly, but it seems like within seconds, I am in my room and then in my truck, having run as if a pack of wolves was chasing after me. I lock my truck doors, so very thankful I don't have a back seat, and dial my dad's work number on my cell.

"_Forks Police Department, Charles Swan speaking."_

"Dad, I need to come hang out with you until you get off work."

"_What's wrong, Bells?"_

"I can't be alone anymore." I know how I sound, but I can't take this. I didn't imagine the flowers. I know I didn't. And I know I didn't put that dress on my bed when I've been trying so hard _not _to think about it.

"_Did something happen? Did that boy hurt you?"_

I'm shaking my head, but I realize he can't see me. "No! I'm just paranoid. It's dark. Can I come hang out with you, please?"

"_Of course you can. Did something scare you?"_

"I just don't want to be alone in the house right now."

"_Well, how close are you?"_

"I'm sitting in my truck. I wanted to make sure I could come before I just showed up."

"_Alright. Are you sure nothing happened? This isn't like you."_

"I fell asleep on the couch and had a nightmare." I just need a safe place so I can sort this shit out. I can't let this go on as if it's normal.

"_Well, if you aren't here in fifteen minutes, I'm sending out a search party."_

"I'll be there."

I head to the station, my fear making me a nervous wreck. Something big is trying to get my attention and whatever the hell it is has it. Full, and undivided. Now I just need my daddy.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

**Plain Vanilla**

"Thank you," I say, hanging up the phone and hitting the 'print' button on my laptop screen to get my confirmation sheet.

I'm scared to death. I don't know what to think or say, but I can't just sit around and hope. Abandoning hope is not something I thought I would ever do, but I have no other choice. I can't sit back and ignore what's happening because in doing so, the biggest, most terrifying of my dreams occurred. Charlie and I came home from the station and I slept on the couch, not wanting to be in my room for obvious reasons. I felt mildly safe with him upstairs and his throw blanket wrapped around me. I was so very wrong to feel that safety.

The dream I had last night was awful. I'm all twisted up inside, wishing I could find a way out of this chasm that won't cause me this much pain, but I don't know what else to do. If I take myself out of the equation, then something will change. It will have to, won't it?

No, I'm not thinking about suicide or anything that drastic. I'm not a coward, at least not as much of one as I could be. I understand though why some people feel like they can't go on. I'm not one of those people brave enough while simultaneously being scared enough to do something like that. And my parents and Edward. I can't imagine how they would feel, how they would shoulder some sort of the blame if I did something like that to myself. It won't happen, but I do need to spring into action. My mind is a jumbled mess, but in a moment of clarity, I formulated a plan. It's going to kill me in a figurative sense, but I'd rather live with this pain that was my choice than go through with everything and let the future unfold in the way it seems to be going now.

I was a sobbing heap of Bella when I woke up much too early for how late I went to sleep. Three hours filled with terror beyond reason is enough to ward me off sleep until my body gives out and I collapse from exhaustion. The tiny fissures in my heart that have been there since this all started are now wide crevices, pulsing with an ache too deep for words. I just can't seem to stop replaying the dream in my mind. It's driving me crazy.

_The whole world is damned and black, but I will wear white for him. I put on the dress I wore the first night he ever kissed me, telling me how beautiful I looked and I remember how I felt so proud to have gained his attention. He saw me for once and I was ready and willing because I loved him so much. _

_I loved him too much. I should have let him go while he still had the chance. He stayed behind because of me and they swiped him away, never to return. It's my fault because I couldn't let him go. I was too selfish to say goodbye before it was too late. _

_They found his pack, gun, and ID tags, but no body. His beautiful mortal shell that loved me in ways I never deserved. The body that held the soul that brought me to life. They even found some of his blood, dried on the canvas and around the area they found his belongings. It happens too often over there, finding the remnants left behind of boys that have fallen. I have a letter he never got to send and a knife he carried with him. We're having a memorial service for his mother who can't take the pain. It's been too long with no word. Two months since his outfit was attacked. Six weeks since they found his things and the tell tale signs that he did not go peacefully. _

_I can't cry anymore. I don't have it in me to cry. The guilty shouldn't get the cathartic release of tears. I want to burn because he's not here and yet here I stand, dressing in white because the shadows of black were never meant to be worn for him – the sun._

It hurts so much. Edward being lost somewhere, dying without the comfort of his family and friends in his final hours. I can't wrap my mind around that, nor can I fathom what that will do to me and the people who know and love him. I am guilty in my dreams over what I can only assume is the fact that I support him. I have told him it is okay and that he should do what he feels is right. It's my own selfish reason of me not wanting him to resent me that allowed him to go forth and do something that causes him harm.

And Esme… She only has Edward. While Carlisle may have another son walking this world, Esme only has Edward. She wanted more children but could never have anymore. How could I ever live with myself knowing that I helped him make the choices that take him away? How could I look her in the eye or be near her knowing that I told him it was all okay?

It isn't okay. I'm scared to death that he'll go off and perish. Edward doesn't deserve to be alone or afraid or hurt like that. Fears and fatal wounds are something he should never have to endure. He's too beautiful and too good to go through something like that. I know it happens to others much too often with all of this stuff going on in the Middle East, but I just can't allow that to happen to Edward. World peace never sounded so good. I used to roll my eyes when people would answer the question of what they wanted most with peace for all. I thought it was a cheesy copout for the unimaginative, but even thinking for a second that I could lose someone who means so much to me in the way Edward does makes me rethink my notions and agree.

Unfortunately, I'm afraid I have to hurt him anyway to make it all better. I have to try. Now I know why I was so ready to kill myself in my dreams. I'd lost something fundamental, my reason for being, and I wasn't too afraid to leave the world behind because of it.

I can't let this keep happening. I know this now. I know that something is working against me, trying to get my attention, but I need to outsmart this somehow. I can't let the things I've seen happen. I just can't.

O-O-O-O-O

"Are you alright, Clementine?" Edward asks me for the millionth time, pulling me into his chest. I can't pretend I'm not breaking apart today and my overall quietness is getting to him. I don't know what to say because there are no words to describe how I feel. Much like with love, giving this faceless force wreaking havoc in my life a description isn't something I am capable of.

"I have something to tell you, Edward." I have so many things to tell you. So many things that are scaring me and I don't want to lose you.

"You can tell me anything. You should know this by now." He's so warm and beautiful and he cares so much, making my heart break all the more.

"In seventh grade, you told me you liked my braces."

He chuckles lightly, kissing my cheek. "I remember that. I had to wear a mouth guard at night so I didn't grind my teeth and I was so embarrassed about that. I could empathize with your situation."

"I didn't know that."

"Neither did anyone else. Just my parents and my orthodontist."

I run my fingers along the skin of his forearm, tracing a vein that stands out against his toned muscle, following it to his hand that's so much bigger than mine. I feel delicate and beautiful compared to Edward's masculinity and I ache to know what he'll be like in ten years, twenty years, thirty years, fifty years. I want to know him when he's an old man and I'm withered and grey. I want us to sit on a porch swing and drink iced tea while we watch our grandkids play out in the yard. I want those proclaimed 'golden years' so much, and I want to spend them with him.

I'm so bitter I can barely stand it.

"I fell in love with you that day."

"What?"

I turn toward him, straddling his hips and rest my head on his chest. I want to stay in this bed forever and let the world and everything I've seen pass me by. "I've loved you for a long time, Edward. I never thought in a million years you would ever start to love me back."

He holds me so tight and I just want to cry. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"You had a girlfriend, Edward. You didn't know anything about me. Everything happens for a reason, right?" I hate that adage, even though it fits.

"I just can't get over the feeling that we've wasted so much time. I know it sounds crazy, but I feel like it was supposed to be you all along."

His words are a knife to my heart and a soothing balm all the same. "I don't want to waste anymore time."

"What do you mean?"

My pulse is quick and I know that I'm about to be incredibly selfish, but I can't stop myself. I need this moment, this one good thing, and I need to know him. I need to learn and to memorize and hold him with me so I never have to let him go, but keep him locked in my heart more than he already is.

"I want you to have all of me, Edward. My heart… and my body." It's so easy to think but not so easy to say.

I look into his eyes, taking note of how green they really are and how much understanding is expressed in them. I always believed that men never really showed how they felt like a woman does, but what sex a person is has nothing to do with the heart. There's nothing different about what makes us innately human and the emotions we experience, good or bad. Stigmas and double standards mean absolutely nothing when it's just a boy and a girl facing something new and big and full of wonder.

And it hurts so much but I've never wanted anything more.

"I have this feeling that you're it for me, Clementine."

"I have a feeling that you're it for me too."

Words fall to silence and then I hear nothing but the sounds of Edward's lips connecting with mine. He's all I've ever wanted in a man, even when I was resigned to a life without him, and I can't wrap my head around the fact that this is happening. He's right here with me, touching me, exploring me, and wanting me the way I want him. He matches me touch for touch and hunger for hunger, two bodies unable to get close enough.

I should feel guilty for taking from him the way that I am, but I can't feel anything other than the love that was forged years ago that still resides in every corner of my heart. I never knew it could be like this, so damned deep and intense, but it is and I cherish every second of it. My hands are eager and greedy when our clothes are tossed away and it is nothing more than just us two, naked in so many ways than just the literal sense of the word. I shiver and tremble, feeling the hair on his legs against the smooth shave of mine, the warmth of his skin the perfect blanket. My breasts are flattened against his chest and my heart is going wild when I feel him pressing against my thigh. I've never seen him like this before, wholly masculine and vulnerable, and he's more beautiful than I remember him being.

I want to learn him in every way possible.

"Can I?" It sounds like a question and I know what he means as I feel his fingers swirl and falter on my lower stomach.

"I want this. All of you," I say, my voice low and whispery, but I've never meant words more.

It's a shock, a sharp sensation as he touches me with his fingers, firm and sure. I don't care where his experience comes from, just that he is sharing it with me in this moment. Nothing before, nothing after, all that matters is that Edward is here with me now touching me in ways I've never been touched. I've known something similar to this, but there was no love or reverence behind it. My heart wasn't connected to my nerve endings the way they are with Edward, and I am set alight as he works my body up, getting me ready to take the rest of him.

His mouth is sweet when he kisses down my neck, taking the time to taste my skin as he reaches my breasts. I am stuck between holding my breath and gasping when I feel his fingers pushing inside me and the shock of his tongue on my nipple.

"Have you ever?" He asks, pulling his head up sharply, his fingers stilling.

"Only you."

"Are you sure? You can't ever get it back," he says, and I see something in his eyes. Regret. He can't share this with me the way that I can with him.

"Nothing before now matters, Edward. I want you now and I'll want you always," I say, spilling my secrets as if they're easy to share.

Something I said must have given him the confirmation he needed to continue, because he touches me now much more earnestly, doubling his efforts and driving my body into a frenzy. His lips are all kisses, his tongue curling around mine as I make sounds I've never made before, my attention pulled in the direction of his hand and the blood pounding through my veins. I'm trapped in sensations and a slave to the pressure building up inside of me. He bites the skin just below my ear lightly and my hand fists his sheets as the other curls into his hair. I am pulled taught and lost as everything implodes and the most intense pleasure I've ever known rushes through me.

"I love you," I blurt out, lost to any fears and never having felt so close to him before.

"Let me show you," he whispers, kissing me lightly before leaning over to get something from his bedside table.

I tremble and watch with fascinated eyes as he pulls out a condom, tearing the foil open with his teeth. I'm staring unabashedly as he takes himself into his hand, stroking himself a few times before he pulls out the latex that will keep me from feeling him fully. I rise up and touch him before he rolls it on, curious and possessive, marveling at how he can be so hard and smooth yet so soft all the same. I look at it all, everything that makes him Edward, and I take him in eagerly, the flexing muscles of his abdomen and the way he's built so perfectly. I smile lightly in an indulgent way when I notice the V that has taunted me since he sent that picture of himself. It does lead to something much better and I tighten my fist, sliding it over the skin of his shaft, curious to see what he'll do.

"I won't last as it is," he says roughly, wrapping his fingers around mine and helping me along instead of pulling my hand away.

He falls forward slowly, taking his hand away and resting his forearms on either side of me as I continue touching him. His soft pants and the way he's kissing my neck works me up all over again, making me pulse and ache between my legs. Everything is so close and I move the tip of it against me, the contact sending a surge of lust through my body. I'm wet and he's right there, and I slide him against me and then he's pressing forward, groaning.

He leans back just as quickly, breathing as if he's just run a marathon. "I really, _really_ want to do that. You have no idea. But we really, _really _shouldn't."

I nod my head, taking my hand away so he can finish putting on the condom. I can't believe that this is actually happening. I'm incredulous that I'm right here, right now, but I'm terrified of what happens after. Not the pain or the act itself, but when reality finally catches up with me. I push my thoughts away and focus on Edward, the way he feels and the way I love him even more when I can feel his weight pressing against me, not in an uncomfortable way, but a perfect way.

"Are you sure?" he asks one last time, settling between my legs.

"I want you, Edward," I say, kissing him firmly as he relents, pressing into me. I can't think, only feel, as I feel the pressure of him entering me. It is not as unpleasant as I was told it would be, but it is not something I'd want to feel everyday either. I wrap my legs around him and urge him forward, running my nails lightly up and down his back.

"Are you okay?" he asks breathlessly, holding still for my benefit I'm sure.

"Perfect." And I mean it with everything in me. This is my moment, the one thing I'm taking for me, and I couldn't ask for anything better. I'm caught up in the emotions more than the act as Edward moves above me, his eyes closed and jaw tight. He's so beautiful, everything about him, and I don't even think he knows just how true it is.

Edward is inside me in every possible way and I can't hold on tight enough. I can't make everything else go away, but I can give him all of me for now. This is all that matters in the moment, just the two of us, and I let myself forget what's going to happen and just enjoy the feel of him with the knowledge that it is me that's making him lose himself like this.

"I love you, Edward. I want to see you come undone," I whisper, my heart full and heavy with so much love and admiration for him.

"I love you, too," he says outright and I feel like I could burst from the elation that such a simple phrase can cause. This is where I'm meant to be. It's a slow burn, a grind, a primal act that I already want again and it isn't even over. His kisses are hard, uncontrolled and his body fits with mine perfectly. I know this, but it's all bittersweet as he groans and tenses, his thrusts erratic and I hold onto him so tight so I don't fall away from the present. I don't want tomorrow or the day after that, just now.

"I love you," he says again, kissing me before laying his head on my chest, spent in the aftermath of what we just shared. Explosive, it is, and I couldn't ask for anything more or expect anything less.

"Always," I say, and I hold him because that's what I do. I will hold him forever, for however long that forever may end up being for me, and I will remember this day and this boy and the way his voice never sounded so sweet as it did when he finally told me the one thing I wanted to hear. I have to or I won't be able to face all of this.

O-O-O-O-O

"You are coming back in time to start classes, right?" My dad asks, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"I plan on it. I just need to take a little break before everything, you know?" He doesn't know what I'm going through, but he doesn't need to know the details either.

"You call me as soon as you get there. I don't care what time it ends up being. I know they like to delay these things nowadays."

"I will."

"What did Edward say?"

It isn't lost on me that Charlie said Edward and not that Cullen boy. "I don't know."

"You didn't tell him you were leaving, did you?"

Tears spring to my eyes and I swipe them away quickly, not giving in just yet. I shake my head no because I know if I try to talk at this moment, I'll crack. I can't do that just yet. I have too many things to try to get done first.

Charlie sighs and squeezes my shoulder. "You should have let him know, Bells. Give him a choice."

It hurts all the more to hear the somber tone lacing my father's voice. He isn't thinking about Edward so much as he is thinking about the day that my mom took off with me. She told me herself she did it on a whim because it was the only way she could do what needed to be done. I'm hoping that I have enough of her in me and I get this done. That's why I'm going to see her. I just need all of this to work out.

"Edward will be okay," I say with conviction because I have to believe it. It's the one thing that is giving me the courage to figure all of this out. Edward being okay. Alive. Breathing. I can't just sit back and let it happen if he is part of the cost. I'd rather be dead than live in a world where Edward doesn't exist.

"You could at least tell him goodbye."

I turn away from Charlie, ready to get out of the cruiser and go inside the small airport that houses the charter planes that will take me to Sea-Tac. I just have to go and I already feel guilty enough. "I said goodbye in my own way," I say, hoping it makes him stop adding pain to my already obliterated heart.

"If you say so. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I just need to go see Mom before the summer's over. I won't be gone forever." I smile, even though I'm scared that nothing is ever going to be the same.

"If you want to come home, you just give me a call and I'll do whatever I have to do to get you here, okay?"

I nod, thankful that my father is an amazing man. "I love you, Dad."

"Love you too, kid."

Charlie helps me get my luggage out of the trunk and sees me off. I walk across the parking lot, my suitcase rolling behind me as I make my way inside the tiny airport. I wish I knew what everything meant and I wasn't walking around empty with such a heavy step. I wish I could spend my summer lazing around the beach and loving Edward and drinking cheap alcohol that someone's friend of a friend bought for us. I wish I could laugh and feel the wind whip around me as I ride in Edward's car with the windows rolled down and the stereo up too loud.

I don't want much, not really, and I don't understand why this is happening to me. I don't have the time to think about the why more so than I need to figure it all out. I need actions and results, not more questions. Most of all, I just need the validation that I'm going to be okay, that Edward is going to be okay.

I know that this isn't going to be easy, but I hope I have enough time to figure it all out before it's just too late. I don't want to be afraid to go to sleep and wake up in equal measure. I just want to be normal again and I'm really, _really_ hoping that I find what normal used to mean again. I'd rather be painfully mediocre than sick with worry. Just a little plain vanilla is all I want.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

**Scratch Biscuits and Lonely Hearts**

One week. Seven days. One hundred sixty eight hours and too many minutes too count. This was supposed to make things easier. I was supposed to get away and figure it all out, but the only thing I can think of is the fact that Edward has called my phone almost every hour since I assume he figured out I left. I can't listen to the voicemails or read the texts, fearing that I'll be on a plane back to Washington within the hour if I hear or see that Edward is hurting in any way.

I've been paraded around and introduced as that Isabella from up north. That Renee's daughter. I've never eaten so much fresh beef in my life. Charlie would love the food they serve around here. They all think I'm skin and bones anyway, and they need to put some meat on me before I go to that 'highfalutin school' in Washington. Maw-maw Margie, Phil's mother, claims me as kin even though Phil's yet to put a ring on my mom's finger. I want to tell her 'fat chance on that happening', but she's a sweet lady who has 'taken a fancy' to me. They're good people around here, all of the family and ranch hands, and I try to smile for them all, but I can't keep up with all the ma'am and darlin' business. I really am trying, but it just isn't possible when I carry all the rain of the Pacific Northwest in my heart.

Evanson Ranch is huge, sprawling for miles that I haven't explored yet just outside of Stephenville, Texas. It's a world within a world, this place, and self sufficient for the most part. Fresh milk, fresh eggs, fresh meat, and a garden to boot. It's fascinating, seeing a new way of life when I've always bought the things I need from the local Thriftway. Margie even makes her own biscuits, telling me it's a sin against any good southern woman to buy them premade. She said pies are fine, but not biscuits. I don't really know the difference.

I've learned how to play poker from some of the ranch hands. Clancy, Whitey, Jim-Bob, Tex, Beanie, Otis – I don't think they have real names anymore. At least not one's they can remember. I think Jim-Bob might actually be Jim-Bob, though. It hurts anyway, because all it does is remind me of the boy back home where the clouds are plenty who called a girl he loved Clementine just to see her light up and smile.

I haven't had one dream or vision since coming here, but I'm too afraid to get comfortable. I got comfortable the last time they tapered off and that's a mistake I won't be making again. At least the dark circles under my eyes are starting to disappear. I was beginning to think they'd be a constant companion of mine.

I can see now why my mother is happy here. It fits her personality. There is never a dull moment between the shenanigans, the farm, quilting bees, rodeos, ranch business, and the other animals running around here aside from the horses themselves. There's always someone willing to be a chatty Cathy and the beer is always cold.

There was a bonfire my third night here and it was Whitey who insisted I be initiated to the clear liquor everyone was passing around in a mason jar. I personally hate mason jars, but I took a drink anyway only to have my breath taken away and my mouth to set on fire.

"What is this?" I choked out, trying to catch my breath.

"Don't you worry about that, darlin'. It's just a little somethin' made from corn and taters."

It was my mother who informed me later that night that they were all just silly old men and I had imbibed Moonshine and that I shouldn't tell my father about it. I had to agree with her. Charlie would probably show up out of nowhere like some kind of magic trick if he knew my mother was letting me drink Moonshine with surly ranch hands.

Out of everyone I've met, though, I have to say that I've personally 'taken a fancy' to Clancy. I smile involuntarily because it rhymes. He isn't around much, but he's charismatic and full of dumb jokes, much like Jacob, even though he's a little on the geriatric side. He laughs until he wheezes, which makes me laugh in return, as much as I _can_ laugh, anyway. He's a bit skinny, always smells like fresh brewed coffee, and he totes a big gun. I'd be wary if everyone around here didn't exercise their right to bear arms. A shiny revolver with a pearl inlaid handle is always at his waist and he wears a leather hide poncho looking thing and a Stetson. I think he may be of Native American decent, or desperately wants people to believe he is. Either way, he reminds me of the people back home in a roundabout way.

"I've been here since 1960, Miss Isabella. Any of these gentlemen give you a hard time and I'll give you all the dirt you need to give 'em hell right back," he had told me the first time I met him. We were outside of the stables and he introduced himself after scaring the crap out of me. It was dark and all I knew was that a shadowy something or other was coming out. It was just him though.

I'm a novelty around here given my age, my paleness, and the fact that I made the mistake of telling them all I'm a liberal and would have voted for the other guy had I been old enough to vote last election. Luckily, they're all quick to forgive and told me it wasn't my fault I was born up north.

My mother hasn't hounded me about Edward thankfully, even though I sent her emails filled with details about how much I loved being around him, kissing him and hanging on to every word he had to say. I think she knows I'm not having the easiest time and that something happened between Edward and I, even though it was all my choice. As many distractions as there are around here, I can't even look at the cows without being reminded of him. They all have an 'E' for Evanson branded on their flanks.

The set up of the ranch is like its own little commune, the main house being the focal point with the stables, two barns, and several little cabins dotted throughout where the workers stay for those who live on site. It's fascinating, how huge everything is around here, and it makes me miss the cozy little houses around Forks and La Push all the more. It's hard to breathe sometimes with so much space, if that makes any sense.

I'm sitting here in the attic of the main house, the one that Margie lives in. Phil and Mom have the second floor to themselves and Margie's room is on the main floor, but the guest room is in the attic. It's nice up here, like my own little apartment, and I appreciate the quiet. No one bothers me when I need to get away from everyone and I can sit here at the window seat, staring out over the entire ranch. I can see so much from this high up, and all I can think about is Repunzel locked away in her tower, waiting for something to happen. My hair isn't crazy long, but I do know what it's like to live in a constant state of expectancy. I just hope something good comes to me and not something wholly terrifying or life ending.

My cell phone chirps and I turn away from the window, staring down at the screen. I have a text, but it isn't from Edward, but from Emmett. I want to check it, but I have a feeling that Edward may have asked him to text me. That thought makes my heart ache all the more, thinking he could face his old friend in an attempt to communicate with me. Edward's probably swearing off women, assuming we're all evil after what I did. Not to mention Rosalie. I never meant for it to look like I was stringing him along or to do the whole 'fuck and run' thing. That wasn't it at all. I was being selfish that last day we spent together. I knew I was leaving and I couldn't bring myself to do it until I gave that part of myself to him. I don't know why I had to, but I did, and I wouldn't change what happened between us that afternoon for anything – my sense of ethical decorum be damned. He was sweet and gentle, reverent, and I got to experience everything about him. I would never take that back. It wasn't him leaving the next morning like in my dream, it was me leaving the next morning. And I wasn't wearing that god awful dress.

The only problem is that it wasn't the only time we'd done it when I dreamt about it. We were in a room. The man that was there in my vision when I killed myself said we did it in my truck bed. I can't see myself doing something like that in the first place and I don't think Edward would either. Of course, I'm not entirely sure about that. Edward may have a side to him that I'm not fully acquainted with. I want to be, as much as I don't want to admit any of that at the moment. It doesn't even feel like I left really, but it's as if I've been exiled to a summer spent without him. Regardless of what may happen in the next month or so, we're still going to be students at the University of Washington come fall. We're bound to run into each other at some point and he'll want answers, I'm sure. I just have to come up with answers to give him that don't make me sound completely cuckoo. It's just one of those things most people don't admit to, if they have visions or not. Some can get away with it, even make a living out of it, but there is always the skeptics who are downright vicious in their assessments as well as the others who just kind of smile and turn the other cheek while twirling their finger at their temple in the universal sign for crazy. I don't want to be one of those people who are shunned or placated because she couldn't keep her mouth shut.

The only thing that I can't make sense of, that doesn't fit somehow, is the flowers. It's as if they never existed. The doors were locked and none of the windows had been tampered with, yet in a turn of events the flowers were gone. White daisies. They hold no significance to me and aren't even my favorite kind. Even if I did imagine them, what relevance do they have other than the man saying he left some for me? Were they a warning from my subconscious? No one was in the house. I highly doubt anyone around Forks would break into my house of all houses considering the clout my father has around town. Charlie Swan, a sweet, jovial man, a great neighbor and friend, but with an iron will that won't hesitate to pull the trigger if need be. None of it makes sense and no one around Forks has been watching me, I'm pretty damned sure of it. Not only that, the appearance of the flowers is out of sequence with the rest of my dreams. The only thing I can connect them to is Edward finally talking to someone about joining the military. It seems like that's the reason. I dreamt about him calling me Clementine right before he started calling me by that name. The lighter too, but I'm still hesitant to believe that it's the same one.

I'm failing miserably at figuring everything out like I intended and I'm miserable myself on top of it all. And because my misery isn't top heavy enough, I'm also a letch because I failed at protecting a heart that I always wanted and that was already on the brittle side to begin with.

I'm just so very afraid that his messages have become angry and bitter. That's what people do when they're ignored. It's the go to emotion – anger – because anger is easier to deal with than feeling hurt or even happiness in some cases. I'm just hoping that Edward's heart is just a little bit tougher than mine. I want to be brave, but in all honesty, I'm scared to death and weak. I can feel my resolve that has been wearing thin over the week cracking into tiny pieces. I look down at my phone knowing that with just one call, I can get a few answers. With one simple action I can spill my guts and let him decide if he wants anything to do with me or not. I can give form and a voice to all of this darkness inside of me where evil things grow and Edward can absolve me and wash me clean, but only if he's brave enough to withstand it all. My finger hovers over the number 3, knowing that if I hit it and then the call button, Edward's number will be dialing and I'll be able to hear his voice. It wouldn't hurt to check in with him and make sure he's okay, would it? I just need to know he's fine and then I'll be okay.

I hold my breath and close my eyes as if it will make it all easier somehow as I call, my heart falling into my feet when his voicemail picks up instantly. _"This is Edward. I can't answer right now, but leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."_ It's a simple, run of the mill, generic message, but it's his voice, so I call over and over and over again, hoping and dreading that he'll finally turn his phone back on. I just need to hear his voice, or so I tell myself, but this is a true kind of crazy. To call someone's voicemail just to listen to their message again and again has to be down in the psychology books as 'abnormal behavior'. I don't care right now, though. There is no psychological explanation or scientific logic to love. Love defies all laws and anyone who tries to compartmentalize how wide and far love can go is crazy for that.

I call and call, hanging up just in time to not be caught. I know his phone won't show all the missed calls, so I'm not afraid of how I'll look. I just listen. His voice is smooth and soothing and I want to hear it so bad. My chest feels hot inside and I want to curl in on the feeling so it helps alleviate the tension of trying to hold everything in. My emotions are manifesting themselves in my body and I can't handle them. _"I'll get back to you as soon as I can…"_ I decide to leave a message.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, not knowing what else to say. There's nothing else I can say. My words are insignificant and nowhere near enough, but they're all I have right now. I just hope he can read into them and know just how sorry I am. It is and isn't my fault all the same, but I'll take the scorn and blame in stride because there's nothing else I can do. I close my phone and set it down on the table next to my bed before I curl up in the blankets and try to force myself to sleep. With no dreams, I actually get the blank reprieve that sleep offers.

O-O-O-O-O

"_Promise?" I ask, so giddy I'm incapable of containing it. _

"_I promise."_

_I squeal like a girl as he picks me up and my legs wrap around his waist. I press my face into the crook of his neck, loving the way he smells and the way I feel, knowing that he's going to be mine in every sense of the word. _

"_I'll wear a white dress and you can wear a suit and we'll eat cake and drink champagne and make love all night," I say, fantasizing out loud how I want everything to go. _

"_That sounds perfect. I don't care what we do as long as you meet me at the altar."_

"_I'll be there for sure. I wouldn't miss it for the world."_

"_I love you, you crazy girl."_

"_I love you too. Always have, always will."_

"_What do you think my dad's going to say?"_

"_I think he'll be angry that I didn't ask him for permission before I asked you, but I think he'll get over it. We have an understanding. I don't think he hates me anymore."_

_I laugh, kissing him again. "He never hated you in the first place."_

"_At least he calls me by my first name now."_

"_See? Everything's going to be fine."_

"_I think so too."_

_And I believe with all my heart that it will be. _

I can feel myself waking up but I don't want to. Not yet. I want to stay in this dream just a little longer because it's good and wonderful. It's full of love and the sweetness I only feel in Edward's presence. I know as soon as it's over that this happens before the events in the other dreams. Tears spring to my eyes and the ache – the need – to be near Edward is so palpable that my whole body reacts. It's a pain like I've never experienced and it cuts off my breath with shattered sobs that I muffle with my pillow. My body contorts into a fetal position and I hold myself together, hating myself for having said goodbye in the first place. Even if it means he'll be safe, it was never more than a maybe, a whim, and I miss him so damned much I can't stand it. This week has felt much too long and I feel like an idiot for not listening to my dad and talking to Edward about it. If I could talk to anyone, it should be him. He bought me Tarot cards, for Christ's sake. He has to be open to metaphysics and clairvoyance in some way, right? It isn't so much that I think he believes more so that I _want_ him to believe so I have an excuse, a reason, to grovel and beg for forgiveness so I don't feel like I'm dying while I still have life left to live.

I can't wallow in it all for long because someone is knocking softly on my door. I know it's my mom. I look at my clock and notice it's almost time for dinner. I cough and wipe the tears from my eyes, hoping my face doesn't have too many signs of my breakdown.

"I'll be down in a minute. I fell asleep." I stand up and look in the mirror, seeing my blotchy skin and ratty hair. I sigh and grab my hairbrush, quickly raking it through the mess.

"Bella, honey, open up."

"I just need a minute."

"But I just –"

"Mom, I just need to brush my hair, alright?" Apparently I've turned into a snappy teenager.

"Fine," she sighs, but when I look over, I can still see the shadows of her feet beneath the door. I almost feel bad, but it only serves to irritate me in my already volatile state.

I wish I knew why she's decided to be attentive at this particular moment. She probably heard me crying. "What, Mom?" I ask, flinging my door open harder than I intended to.

"You look like shit."

I crumple and don't know what to do or say or think.

"I was really hoping you'd be happy to see me," Edward says, following me down to the floor where he sits next to me, making no move to touch me.

"How did you know?"

"Charlie thinks that Cullen boy is good enough for his only daughter. Why did you leave like that? I was so fucking worried and you wouldn't even answer my calls." His voice is raw and pained and while I'm so happy just to have him talking to me, it hurts all the same because I know it was me who did this to him.

"I don't know what to say." It is flimsy and thin and insubstantial, but it's all I have right now. I can hardly breathe.

"Do you have any idea how long it took to get here? We got lost three times and I thought the Volvo was going to break down in the middle of nowhere."

"We?"

"Apparently McCarty was all for a little road trip to regroup after all that shit went down."

"You drove here with Emmett?" My voice is so high and all I want to do is touch him to make sure he's real, but I don't know what he's thinking.

"The one and only. He and Rose? Yeah, I can see how they're made for each other. I can honestly say I'm happy for them."

"Why did you come here?" So many questions, but all I want to do is tell him I love him.

"Because I'm not one to give up on something I want, Clementine." His eyes are on fire, burning with accusations and pain, but so much love I can hardly look. "I thought maybe you were regretting what we did at first, but it wasn't until two days later when I went to see your dad at the station that I found out you'd skipped town without even telling me. Do you know what that did to me?"

"I'm so sorry, Edward. I don't know how to explain."

"I just need to know if you want me or not. If you want this. What do you need me to do so that you know I want you?"

I don't know what to say, so he stands up and keeps talking, flailing his arms and pulling at his hair. He looks so broken. "Do you need a grand gesture? I drove to goddamned Texas and haven't slept for three days. Do you need me to paint 'Edward loves Isabella Swan' in the sky? Just tell me what you need and I swear to God I'll figure out a way to do it."

I'm shaking my head and fighting back tears. "I just want you."

"Then why did you leave?" He asks, gathering me up in his arms. "If you feel it's best for us to be apart, although I have no idea why, I'll get back in the Volvo and go home without you. But don't think for a second that I can just shut off the way I feel about you."

His words are so sweet and perfect the way they always are, but I've never seen Edward's heart so radiant and vulnerable as I am witnessing right now. "I don't want you to leave."

He laughs and it looks like tears are springing to his eyes and I don't think I can bear to see him cry. "Why did you leave if you feel that way? You don't make any sense."

I look down at his arms wrapped around me, in awe that just an hour before all I was hoping for was that he'd answer his phone. Now he's here. He drove way too many miles with Emmett and came to a place he's never been too, not even knowing if he was welcome, just to get answers from me. How could I not tell him?

"I'm scared of what you'll think."

"You can tell me anything. I swear you can. Just talk to me, Clementine. That's all I want."

It's all on the tip of my tongue and I can feel it all building up and me cracking under the pressure. "I have dreams, Edward. Or I started having dreams, I should say." Step one down, many more to go. I look to Edward's face to gauge his reaction and he looks surprised.

"They're of me, aren't they?"

I nod my head. "Most of the time. But they're getting scary and things are happening outside of the dreams that I can't ignore. I just… I just need you to be safe."

"I'm not going anywhere. Now I know it for a fact."

"What do you mean?"

I'm staring at Edward looking at me with eyes full of wonder. It's as if he's seeing me for the first time and I want him to always look at me like this. "I've had dreams my whole life. Just one in particular. I was holding a girl under a tree and I knew I loved her more than anything, but I could never see her face."

A shiver runs up my spine, and I can't help but think that maybe I'm not the only one who's been keeping mum on dreams. "What happens?"

"I just love her. She's my whole world." He leans in close and kisses me once, so quick I barely feel it. "And I never knew who she was until after I kissed you that night by the lake. I knew I'd seen that dress somewhere before. It just never dawned on me. It had been awhile since I had the dream."

"_You look really nice by the way. I remember that dress." _I recall his words and know they're true. My heart gallops in my chest and I feel relief wash over me. I can't believe it, but it's really happening.

"I think we need to talk, Edward," I say, laughing because it sounds so small compared to something so big.

Maybe, just maybe, I'll have a confidant in all of this and he'll figure it out with me.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:**

**Through the Oak Door**

It is cathartic and a release. My heart is no longer sodden down with the propensity of keeping everything to myself. And Edward has no idea what to make of any of it, just like me.

"I won't leave you. That's all I can do, right? If I don't leave, none of this will happen."

"I guess so. I mean, if we change the sequence, something will fall out of place, right? Of course, all of this could be a bunch of weird, creepy coincidental stuff. I don't want to keep you from doing something you love, Edward."

He shakes his head and puts his arm around my shoulder. "I like taking risks, but I really don't want to take risks when it comes to you. Not like that, at least."

"I do it to myself," I say softly, hating the idea of it.

"You do it because there's a gun pointed at you. If I was in your shoes, I'd probably make that choice too. He could have done all sorts of unspeakable things to you before he killed you anyway. You probably just save yourself from a lot of suffering." I watch as Edward's hands clench into fists, his cheeks flushing with anger at a person neither of us know yet – nor will ever know, hopefully.

I put my hands over his and lean down to kiss his knuckles, smiling lightly as he loosens his fingers so that I can thread mine with them. "If you're not leaving then I have nothing to worry about, Edward. And I really don't mind that you call me Clementine. I kind of like it."

After I told him all of the things that happened that made me realize I wasn't just having dreams like every other human being, Edward vowed to never call me Clementine again as the nickname was among that group.

"It's just weird. I was cleaning out McCarty's garage and when I found that marble, I just thought of you and started humming that stupid Oh My Darlin' song that his dad used to sing all the time. It just slipped out and I never stopped."

"Well, when I hear it, it makes me smile, so I wouldn't mind you calling me that. Everyone else calls me Bella. You're not everyone else."

Edward smiles and it's beautiful, his whole face transforming into a look of happiness. How could I have possibly thought I'd be okay never getting to see his smile? I was so stupid.

"I love you, Clementine."

"I love you too, Eddie."

He grimaces as soon as I say the one thing he has always made it clear he never wanted to be called. I laugh at him and he pushes me back on the mattress, kissing my neck while tickling my ribs. I can't breathe, but it's all in a good way because I feel light as air in a way I haven't felt truly in such a long time. I got the boy, a confidant, and I don't have to face anything alone. And I am loved, of that I am sure. He drove so many miles just to tell me so. I never needed a grand gesture, but I got one anyway. I don't think I can love him anymore than I already do.

So what do I do now? I kiss him again and again and then again after that just because I can.

"Your mom loves me," Edward says, pulling away from me abruptly.

"I love you too. Why are you bringing up my mother?"

"Charlie called her when I told him I was coming to see you. It turned into me talking to her and she told me she admires my romantic heart."

I laugh, imagining my mother being her wistful, overly emotional self. "She's like that. I used to wonder if her and my dad would have made it if Charlie would have followed after us. He's content in Forks though."

"Nothing wrong with that."

"When do you want to go back to Washington?"

"Maw-maw Margie said I could visit as long as I busted my britches with the other boys in the stables and earned my keep. And I'm not allowed to be with you in the biblical sense under her roof. There's enough of that going on with her own son, or so she says."

"Oh yeah?" I ask before bursting into a fit of giggles.

"She also said she knows her way around a pistol and could shoot me running if she catches me trying to get into your skirts."

"I haven't worn a skirt since I've been here."

"Better keep it that way. I'm quite fond of them if you remember," he says, tracing his finger along my jaw line.

And there it is that ache that starts in my heart and goes between my legs whenever Edward alludes to what our bodies are capable of doing together, whether it is through his words or actions. The worst part about all this? I have known his body now. I know what he looks like without a stitch of clothes on and how big and right he feels when he's above me and inside of me. Sex has always been something I've talked with my friends about, blushing and giggling over taboos, but none of that is relevant to the real thing. When Edward and I did things like that, it wasn't about getting off or how hot we could make it. It was a physical manifestation of what was inside of us. While I really don't mind the pleasure associated with the act, I doubt I would feel the same if my heart strings weren't tied to every action. The fact that I love Edward on top of everything else is what makes it so completely mind blowing and erotic. Not that I judge those who can do the whole hook-up thing with other people, but I'm not one of them.

"You're thinking about something."

I wait for my cheeks to flush, but they don't, thankfully. My voice is soft when I speak. "Only a week ago, we were exactly like this, but we didn't have any clothes on."

I watch in fascination as Edward's eyes darken. "I think we should go downstairs before I break my promise to Maw-maw Margie."

I laugh and kiss him once. "Okay."

O-O-O-O-O

"Dude, we have to find a mechanical bull. I'm not even kidding. I'm in Texas. Go big or go home, and I'm really not looking forward to being cramped in the Volvo for another couple days." I laugh as Emmett gives every reason under the sun why he and Edward should take Maw-maw Margie up on her offer of staying on the ranch as long as they help out. She's a smart woman, trading free labor for food and a bed.

"It's hot here," Edward complains, his cheeks already turning pink from the bright sun that bears down on us. Even late in the evening, it's still really warm. I'll have to find him some sun block.

I like the idea of Edward being here. It's kind of like a little mini vacation before school. "What about Rose?" I ask Emmett, wondering how she's faring with him going so far away with Edward.

"She's cool. Told me to go for it when Cullen asked me to come with him. She left for New York two days ago to spend a couple weeks with her grandparents. She does it every year."

I nod, remembering now. "Were your parents okay with you coming here," I ask Edward.

"They told me I could take the Volvo as long as I didn't come here by myself. Did you forget I'm nineteen now? I don't have a curfew."

I scowl at him playfully. "Smartass."

"You watch your mouth, young lady," Maw-maw Margie says, coming around the corner of the porch.

"Sorry about that."

"It's alright. You boys better get to bed by nine. We start our days at five in the mornin' and I don't want to have to crack any whips to get ya'll goin'."

"Are you going to feed me breakfast first, Margie darling?" Emmett asks in that overtly flirtatious way he has about him.

Maw-maw Margie grimaces but I can see the smile in her eyes. "You'll be bunkin' over with Otis. He has a pull out couch in his quarters. And you," she turns her attention to Edward, "will be sleepin' on the day bed outside of Isabella's room."

Edward grins and looks at me, but Margie isn't done yet. "If I hear so much as a foot hittin' the floor up there, I'll know about it. I know you young men think you're so slick, but I'm one step ahead of ya'll. You remember what I said earlier and we'll be just fine," she says sternly, pointing her finger in Edward's direction. It isn't Charlie that Edward has to be afraid of, it's my little surrogate grandmother with a big temper.

"Yes ma'am," Edward says, staring at the bright red nail that Maw-maw Margie is close to drilling into the tip of his nose.

She smiles, standing back and patting his cheek as if she didn't just threaten him. "Glad we've come to an understandin'. Now, you get some sleep because shovelin' manure isn't as easy as it looks. I don't want to have you two tellin' me you need a break every five minutes."

As she walks away, I burst into a fit of giggles, not being able to imagine either of these two relatively sheltered boys from the land of mild weather and rain doing ranch work. "Think you can manage?" I ask the both of them, trying to compose myself.

"Why don't you have to help?" Edward asks, raising his eye brows.

"I'm just visiting my mother and getting to know all these wonderful people. You could always tell her no and we could go back to Washington. Or you could get a hotel room. I think I saw a Days Inn not too far from here when Mom was driving us back from the airport."

"Nah, I'd rather do the work. Save the hotel money for the drive back. Keeping up with the caffeine and trying to sleep in the backseat of the Volvo was hard enough with just two people, let alone three," Emmett says, breaking into a yawn. He doesn't look much better than Edward as far as the dark circles under his eyes go.

"Was it fun though, driving here?"

"I like Arizona. We took a wrong turn in Colorado and ended up there instead of New Mexico thanks to Emmett's awesome skills with a map. I wouldn't mind going back someday. Maybe we could stop there for a day or two and you could show us around since you know it a little bit."

I'm surprised by Edward's suggestion, but it makes me smile. "Like a road trip? I've always wanted to do that. I just never thought I'd do it with you and McCarty. Lauren and I used to say we were going to drive to the east coast and back, but neither of us ever had the money or a car we thought could make the trip."

"She told me to drag your ass back to Washington, by the way. I talked to her at the Thriftway when I was buying some food to take with us."

"I didn't even call her. I'm a bad friend."

"Why did you skip town like that, Bella?" Emmett looks at me curiously, obviously wondering why he made the trip with Edward.

I share a look with Edward, something passing between us - an unspoken agreement of secrecy - and I answer Emmett's question. "Everything just got really overwhelming. College, life, adulthood - everything. I wasn't thinking and it wasn't fair."

I'll take one for the team, and really, the blame is mine if I'm being honest.

"Shit happens." And that's one thing I love about Emmett. He doesn't pry and he'd rather skim the surface instead of digging in deep. He knew how I felt about Edward, but he never called me out on it because that just isn't his style. He'll take your word and that's that because if you don't feel like sharing, he won't try to make you.

"That it does." I agree with him.

"So which one of these guys is Otis?"

I point Emmett in Otis' direction, giving Otis and his cute little bald head a wave. "He's a nice guy. Might talk your ear off, but he shouldn't be too hard to get along with."

"Can't be any worse than Cullen. All I heard on the way down here was 'Oh my Bella, she is the sun that brightens my days, all of the stars in the night sky, the air in which I breathe!' It was cute, actually."

"Fuck off, McCarty," Edward says, but there's no seriousness in his tone.

"I love you too, Cullen. Now I'm going to go see about a shower and a pull out couch."

"You must be exhausted," I say to Edward after we watch Emmett introduce himself to Otis.

"I was, but seeing you woke me up. Got my adrenaline going."

"I have that effect on people."

"But you're _my_ girl, right?"

I look into Edward's eyes and smile because that's what he makes me do the most. "As long as you're my boy."

"Always. If you'll have me of course."

"I think I can manage that. I don't think you'll cramp my style too much," I tease, loving the way he smirks.

"Good to know," he says, pulling me close to kiss me thoroughly.

"Aw, look at that, Whitey. They're in l-o-v-e. Izzy and Eddie sittin' in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g," Jim-Bob says, laughing at Edward and I. I blush and pull away, smiling up at the two ranch hands.

"No kissin' on my porch. You better _put_ a ring on that finger before you go and _lay_ a finger on that girl," Maw-maw Margie yells, opening the screen door.

"How did you get from the stables to the house?" Edward asks, whipping his head around to look at her.

"I done told you, boy, I see everything around here. I am everywhere."

"Aw, come on now, Margie. You and Phillip Senior used to sneak off every chance you got," Whitey says, smiling at Edward and I.

"Exactly. We snuck off for our business. As in, we didn't do anything under or near my daddy's roof. His rules still hold."

"What about my mom and Phil?" I ask, curious to hear her response.

"They've both been married before," she says, her hands on her hips and her drawn on eyebrows disappearing into her fluffy white bangs.

"What does that have to do with it?"

"They've both laid in a marriage bed. I would prefer they be married now, but it just hasn't happened yet. I'll get your mama in white one of these days. Now," she turns her attention to Edward, "it's a quarter to nine, I don't want to have to tell you to get to bed again, Eddie."

Edward cringes, and I can't help but laugh. "Eddie it is," I say.

O-O-O-O-O

_"We shouldn't," I breathe into the side of his neck, feeling him press against me as we swim in the middle of the night. _

_"I want you," he whispers, chipping away at my resolve. The water is cool and the night is warm, just like his body that I can't seem to get close enough to. _

_"We're playing with fire." It's my only defense as my body responds to him, urgent and desperate. It's been too long. _

_"I burn for you anyway. What's the difference?"_

_I moan, his words sending a surge of lust through me. "I want you so much."_

_"Then have me," he says, his voice all honey and grit. _

_It's pleasure and excitement, sneaking away in the middle of the night like this. No one knows but the two of us and this night is our own. I feel him slide my panties to the side, his fingers shockingly warm against me, and I know that I can't resist him. I never could. I never wanted to. _

_The moon casts everything in silvery blue and I can smell the sweetness of the wildflowers and the heady scent of him, mingling and fogging up my senses. We've known this dance, but it's never been quite like this. I am weightless in the water and he holds onto me as I take him out of his shorts, pressing him inside me. It's hot, wanton, lusty, erotic, and the pulsing I feel intensifies as he fills me up in a familiar way that still feels new every time. I take over, grinding my hips to his, loving the way his lips trail warm kisses across my collarbone. He holds onto me and thrusts, hard, and I float back listening to the sounds of the water and the cricket song, the backdrop to the unabashed sounds I make as he works my body from the inside out. _

_I stare up into the sky, my ears filling with water as my back arches from him hitting that place inside me that he discovered all on his own. All I can see are brilliant stars in an endless night and all I can hear now is the muffled sounds of my own breaths. In and out. Filling me up and retreating back. _

_Nothing will ever be the same again. I think I like it._

O-O-O-O-O

I may or may not be having issues with my hormones today. I had one of the most erotic dreams I've ever had in my life last night and seeing Edward pour a glass of water over his head to cool down is just not helping. He took his shirt off for Christ's sake! That kind of thing should be illegal. I want to be one of those streams of water running down his chest, over those abs of his, causing the waist of his jeans to darken. Those jeans seem tighter than normal today (this may just be a lust induced hallucination) and I never before noticed how Edward has a perfectly structured back. Who knew something as simple as Edward's back could cause me to sit here on this porch and drool?

"Gawking at Edward?"

I feel my cheeks flush, having been caught red handed with my lusty thoughts by my mom. "You would look too if you were me."

"I'm not you and I'm still looking. That friend of his is something else," she says, sitting down in the rocking chair beside me.

I laugh. "Emmett's too beefy for me."

"Isn't he that boy you told me about last year?"

"Yeah, that would be Emmett. Crazy how it all happened. Emmett wanted Rosalie and I wanted Edward, but Edward and Rose were together. It was like a lonely hearts club until Emmett made his move. It wasn't the nicest thing he could have done, but I can't say that I don't like the final outcome. I mean, Edward's everything I've ever wanted."

My mom nods, smiling in a wistful way. "He adores you. Not many boys would drive that far just to have a talk when a girl left without saying goodbye. I know this for a fact."

My heart twists a little bit, seeing an old sadness my mother carries become new again for a moment. It isn't long before I see her gaze flicker to Phil and that sadness seeps away. I hope my father finds someone new too. "Edward's great, Mom. I couldn't ask for anything better. There isn't anyone better than him as far as I'm concerned."

"Hold onto that, Bella. Remember moments like this if you ever think things are too hard. So many people give up too easily when the newness wears off. Comfort and familiarity isn't always a bad thing. Things like relationships don't always come as easily as breathing. In fact, they take a lot of work more often than not."

I nod my head, unsure of what to think of the urgent tone in my mother's voice. It's a side to her that I've rarely ever seen, a side that doesn't paint over old regrets with new ideas and people. "I will, Mom."

"Good," she says, patting my knee before going back in the house.

I look over to Edward and he catches my eye, giving me a small wave before he heads back into the stables with Emmett trailing behind him. There is a stock horse show coming up next week and everyone is busy preparing for it. Neither Edward nor Emmett have any experience with horses so that's why they're on cleaning duty. I would have left for Washington today, but both boys seem a little wary of the road and I can't say that I blame them. That's a lot of miles to just turn around and drive again. I'd want to stick around for a few days too. I'm sure Edward's car appreciates the rest as well. I saw Beanie changing the oil in it and checking the tire pressure earlier today, making sure that everything will go smoothly when Emmett, Edward, and I finally do head back home.

The only thing I have to do with my time at the moment with everyone so preoccupied is think about my dream, which I really don't mind doing. It was a hopeful one. I knew something was going to change but I welcomed that change. I wasn't afraid of it. I wasn't scared and the dream was filled with so much love and good things, especially the physical aspect of it. It's going to be hard keeping my hands off of Edward for the next week or so, not because I think Maw-maw Margie will actually make good on her threats, but because it's hard to find privacy around here aside from the bedrooms. I already have a plan in my head anyway that involves a hotel room in our near future once we hit the road.

"What are you thinkin' about, Miss Isabella?"

I turn and see Clancy, catching his freshly brewed coffee scent that makes me miss my dad and La Push. I shrug my shoulders and give him the simplest answer, the kind that is and isn't a lie all the same. "Boys."

"Ah, I see. That boy loves you, you know. You'd have to be a fool not to see it."

"I know he does. I just hope I don't screw anything up."

"I don't think you could if you tried. Love's a two way street. He loves you enough to realize you'll make mistakes along the way."

"I don't want to make any mistakes."

"Mistakes are half the fun. You learn from 'em. They aren't all bad."

"Good point."

"I'm an old man, Miss Isabella. I've seen more than I should have in my time. Made quite a few mistakes too." I want to hug him when I see the sadness in his eyes. All of the people who work at Evanson ranch are single from what I can tell. Everyone but Otis and Beanie who have girlfriends that live closer to town. And of course, my mom and Phil.

"But you're wise."

"Something like that. I have to get back to the fields and make sure those boys don't work the horses too hard. You have a nice afternoon," he says, straightening his hat.

"You too."

I turn my attention back to the stables just in time to see Edward coming out, walking purposefully toward me. My pulse quickens and flashes of my dream flit through my mind and I want him so much. Now that the initial first time jitters are over and done with, even though I enjoyed every second of that first time, I'm curious to see what we're capable of now.

"I have to kiss you," he says once he's close enough that I can hear him, never breaking his stride as he climbs the few steps that keep us apart. He places his hands on the arms of the rocking chair and pushes down, bringing me forward so he can press his lips to mine. It's sweet and urgent and I want to pull that t-shirt of his from his back pocket and stare up close at those jeans.

"You're killing me," I half whisper, half moan.

"Well I dreamt about you last night. _That's_ killing me."

I laugh, thinking about my dream instantly. "Were we swimming?"

His brows furrow. "At night?"

"And you put your hands in my panties?"

"And we did the dirty in the water?"

"Maybe?"

"_I burn for you anyway,"_ he says, staring into my eyes intently, looking for a reaction.

Goosebumps break out across my skin even though the day is too warm and on the muggy side. "Did we have the same dream?"

"That's crazy, isn't it?"

"I wonder if there's a reason." I don't know what to make of that. My brain is my own, but apparently Edward is on the same wavelength as me. Or maybe he's 'seeing' the same things as me.

"There must be. I think we can throw the coincidence theory out the window," he laughs, the sound a little uncertain.

It's weird to be talking about this stuff so casually when it was incredibly personal and frightening up until I spilled my guts to him. "Something has changed, though. I think so anyway."

"Maybe because we're in this together now?"

That has to be it. It's the only difference between now and the visions and dreams I was having up until I left. "Must be."

"You know, I don't think I mind this. This is the kind of thing you see in movies, not in real life."

I smile because he's smiling and because of that, I feel safe. It feels good to feel safe after everything else that's happened. "We must be special."

"I knew that already. Glad you've caught up." I smack his arm lightly and he grins, leaning down to kiss me again.

"Cullen! If you don't get over here and help me shovel this shit, I'm going to throw you in it!" Emmett bellows across the yard. I break out into laughter and Edward does too.

"Fine!" he yells back to Emmett. "Play footsies with me at dinner?" he asks me while cocking one of his brows, his voice sounding much too seductive

"You know it."

"I'll hold you to it," he says, sprinting across the yard before I can say anything else.

I go up to my room and look through my things, trying to find my copy of Wuthering Heights. It isn't my favorite book, but it was the one sitting on my desk back home when I was hastily throwing together a suitcase of things to bring with me. I can't find it anywhere, of course. I sigh in frustration, trying to remember where I put it when I realize I left it in the living room downstairs. While I love this house, my body isn't used to running up and down three flights of stairs. Everything may be bigger in Texas, but my burning thigh muscles just don't give a damn. They prefer small houses and short distances.

I walk out into the middle room where the staircase is, looking over at the daybed that Edward slept on last night. True to his word, he didn't come into my room even though I was silently begging him to before I fell asleep. It's not technically a room since it's open to the staircase, but it's definitely large enough. There are three doors, one leading to my room, one to the small bathroom, and one that Margie said was just a storage room. The storage room door is different than the others, I notice, its wood – oak, I think – bare while the others are painted white. I have no idea why that it is, but I find myself curious. A part of me knows that I shouldn't be snooping around in someone else's house, but I just really want to see what's in that room. The urge is almost overwhelming, borne of my boredom most likely, and before I realize it, my hand is twisting the knob. I am instantly deflated when I realize the door is locked.

"That's so dumb," I say aloud, not because it's actually dumb but because I'm disappointed more than I should be.

_Ting. _

My head whips around and my heart starts racing as I hear the beginnings of a song. Not just any song, but Oh My Darlin'.

_Clementine._

"Oh my God, this is really freaking not okay," I say to the room, fighting back the same feeling I had when I realized the daisies were gone back home in Forks. Edward mentioned that song yesterday and now here it is, filling the silence. I see the music box sitting on a shelf near the day bed and instead of letting myself be freaked out more than I am; I take the knowledge that I am not completely alone and march over to it, opening the lid. The music stops as soon as I do and within the velvet lined box lays a skeleton key.

"Okaaay," I draw out the word, lifting the key and feeling the weight of it in my hand. I look over to the door and laugh, half hysterical and half real humor. I take the few steps to it, already knowing the key will unlock it.

With a deep breath, I open the door with a creak and step inside.


	11. Chapter 11

**WARNING! This chapter has freaked people out. A lot. **

**Chapter 11:**

**Flicker**

There is no light in this room and a feeling of dread – dread of what, I have no clue – courses through me at a rapid speed. Everything in me, every self preservation instinct I have, screams to turn away and shut the door. I can barely see in front of me, the window I'm assuming having been blacked out by God knows what. The weak light that filters in from my bedroom does not make it into this room and I cannot go any further than one step into the doorway. The sound of the door knob rattling registers before I realize that my hand is trembling along with the rest of my body. I feel silly for being scared, but the overwhelming sense that I'm about to see something I really don't want to see is undeniable.

A cold rush of breeze gently lifts my hair and the creak and slam of my bedroom door makes me jump violently. _Wind, wind, wind_, I chant to myself, but I know for a fact that the window in there is shut and locked. My eyes are wide and adrenaline rushes through my veins as my only light source is rendered useless. I turn my gaze slowly, staring into the black hole of a room and I hear the distinct sound of bed springs groaning and papers rustling from somewhere inside.

Something is in this room. That something is not something I want to know about – not alone anyway. I do what any normal person would do. I jump ship and get the fuck out of dodge.

"Edward!" I yell, running across the yard toward the stables. My mom was no longer in the kitchen when I made my way downstairs, in fact, no one but me was in the house. My false sense of security was just that, false.

"What is it?" Edward asks, coming out of one of the stalls, all sweaty and flushed from the heat.

"I think…. There was… when I was upstairs… and I found a key… and the door and bed springs and the slam and the music box." It's all jumbled and I'm tongue tied and I don't know how to make sense of any of it.

"Slow down," he says calmly, placing his hands firmly on my upper arms, looking into my eyes. "Tell me what happened."

I want to scream and cry and laugh in relief now that I'm not alone in that demon house. I don't know how I'm going to sleep tonight. I'd rather have screwed up dreams in all honesty. At least then there's a chance nothing is real.

"What happened?" Edward asks again and I realize I didn't answer him the first time he asked.

I take a deep breath and try to calm my heart down. I feel shaky and weak in the aftermath of my adrenaline rush, making it hard to form coherent thoughts. "I was looking for my book." I start slowly, trying to be calm as I rehash the freaking freaky events of just a few minutes ago.

"And?"

"I was upstairs in my room and I was looking for my book. I realized I'd left it downstairs and then I was in the middle room looking around and I got curious about the storage room. You know the door that's different from the bathroom and my bedroom door?"

He nods. "Yeah, I noticed that last night."

"Well I went to turn the knob and the door was locked."

Edward raises his eyebrow. "You freaked out over a locked door?"

My face pinches into a scowl. "No. As soon as I realized it was locked the music box on the shelf started playing creepy music and it wasn't even open, so I don't know how the hell it was playing to begin with, and the damned key to the room was in the box."

"No shit?" Emmett is standing off to the side, looking at me with wide eyes. "That's really weird, B."

I flush in embarrassment when I realize Emmett is listening in on our conversation. It's not like he's intentionally eavesdropping, it's just that I forgot he was in here too.

Edward being Edward sees my apprehension and turns to Emmett. "Can you go get us a couple sodas from the kitchen?"

"You want me to go into that house after hearing that shit? I believe in that stuff." Emmett might be huge, but he looks horrified at the thought of going inside. I can't say I blame him.

"Quit being a pansy and go get us some cokes."

"If I'm not back in like two minutes, send in a priest."

Edward rolls his eyes and watches Emmett walk out of the stables before turning his attention back to me. "So you found the key?"

I nod. "Yeah, and the music stopped when I opened the box, which I don't understand. Anyway, I opened the door and took a step inside, but I hesitated because there was no light whatsoever and it was just all dark. I was going to go in anyway, maybe find a light, but then there was this really cold breeze and the door to my bedroom slammed shut and then everything was dark and I heard stuff."

"What did you hear?"

"It sounded like someone was sitting on a bed, you know, the sound that bed springs make? And I heard papers being moved around. I didn't stick around to see anything after that."

"Are you sure you weren't imagining things because you were freaked out?"

"Yes, I'm sure," I say, indignant that he would suggest that sort of thing. "I know what I heard, Edward. I'm not that creative to have imagined it all."

Edward sighs and pulls me into a hug. "I have one more stall to clean out and put hay down in. We'll go take a look when I'm done, okay?"

I nod, thankful that he's taking this in stride. I know he's had a couple dreams, but he doesn't deserve to have a freak show for a girlfriend. Who would have thought that out of every possible thing that could make me a complicated girl, it is _this_ weird crap? "Thank you."

"Not a problem."

I can hear Emmett stomping through the yard and I turn around to see him walking toward us, three sodas tucked into his arm. "Margie was in the kitchen getting dinner started. I'm glad I wasn't alone in there."

"It was all probably just coincidence anyway. Weird stuff happens all the time," Edward says, making light of the situation. He gives me a look and I know that he's just covering for me in front of Emmett. I told him about my fears of being ostracized over the dreams and visions, let alone strange happenings. I smile lightly because he has my back.

"I'm just thankful I'm sleeping on Otis' pull out bed and not up in that attic. It's always the attic or the basement," Emmett says ominously.

"Dude, this attic even has a bathroom. It's kind of like my house where the attic isn't cut off from everything else. It's just another floor."

"Sure, Cullen. I hate music boxes. And those things – what are they called? The things you wind up and the freaky little dude pops out?"

"Jack-in-the- box," I say, agreeing with Emmett without saying as much.

"Yeah, those."

Edward sighs as he is _clearly_ the only one being an adult in this situation. "Let's get this last stall finished, shall we?"

Emmett sets his coke down on a wooden ledge and picks up a hoe. "Yeah, Margie's making pork loin and whatever she was marinating it in smells fucking delicious. I plan on being the first in line."

I let the boys finish their work in peace and I resume sitting on the porch in one of the rocking chairs. I could go help Maw-maw Margie with dinner but I don't want to go back in the house without Edward. It's really frustrating to have all of this _activity_ – for lack of a better phrase – going on in my life without a reason. It's like a warning of some sort. I don't like these weird events that are adding another layer to the overall freakishness of the dreams and visions. Everything seems tied together somehow, all but having the one vision of Edward's bed. What was the purpose of that one? To make me a believer?

I am a believer. I know these things I'm seeing and experiencing are real. Things can't get any more real in my opinion, and if they can, I don't really want to find out. I could understand if I was living in hard times or I had a true, tangible reason to be afraid, but all of this stuff is up in the air. It's all mercurial, fluid, weightless, unreal – what am I supposed to make of all this? I need answers. No, not a hypothetical 'this might happen', I need concrete answers. I need to know why. It's as if every piece is meant to form a puzzle, but I can't make sense of any of it. If I had a timeline, if I had shapes to go by, then perhaps I could solve everything and form the picture. The only thing I am certain of is that I know the ending. I don't like the ending, but I don't know how to change it. Maybe me being meddlesome and aware is the reason my world crashes and burns, but I won't know until I get there, now will I?

Questions, questions, and more questions because obviously I haven't had enough of them.

Margie orders them to 'wash up' (this consists of the water pump outside and a bucket and I really like Edward wet especially after my dream last night), Emmett and Edward join us in the dining room for dinner. There isn't anything formal about it, just a bunch of people around a huge table, talking over each other and eating good food. I look around at my mother, Phil, Otis, Margie, Emmett, and Edward and I can't help but notice that it feels good to be here with them, despite all of the other stuff. I wanted to get away by coming here, but I never knew I would find an extended family so ready to accept me. I always hear bad stereotypes about people from the south, but obviously, the people who say those things don't know what in the hell they're talking about. Sure they have accents and do a little farming and listen to Hank Williams – but none of those things matter. Every single one of them is peripheral to the fact that I have met some of the kindest people I think I'll ever know down here. They aren't too good to give a dollar or help a friend in need. They aren't too worried about their own lives to give up their manners and not ask a friend to stay for dinner. Southern hospitality is very much real and I can't help but love every second of it.

I'm cutting up a slice of perfectly tender pork loin when I feel a soft nudge at my shin. I smile down at my plate, knowing that if I look up I'll be a heap of blushing Bella. I slide my foot from my flip flop and take a bite of my food to preoccupy my face as I gently run my toes beneath Edward's pant leg. Now I know why he sat across from me instead of beside me like he did last night.

"Ya'll are stayin' 'til the stock show next week, right?" Margie asks Edward.

I look up in time to see his small smile transform as he answers her question. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's the plan."

I smirk, feeling a bit mischievous at the moment. I run my foot outside of his jeans, drawing slow, sweeping lines up his leg, toward his knee. Only Edward could make me forget everything else like this.

"How do you like muckin' stalls? More work than it seems, isn't it?" she asks, still engaging him in conversation.

Edward nods, keeping eye contact with her. I can't have that. "Yeah, I definitely have a newfound respect for people who keep a ranch going. I have a feeling I'm going to be sore tomorrow."

His breathing is getting heavier and he has enough sense to blush a little bit as I work the tips of my toes in small circles along his inner thigh, ascending closer and closer to that wonderful, fascinating part of him that I want to be reacquainted with soon. Very soon.

"Well, you can clean out the second set of stables tomorrow and then I'll have you refresh the hay in the chicken coop. How does that sound?"

Edward presses his hand to the side of his face and leans an elbow on the table. I smirk as I run my big toe along the bulging seam of his zipper, using just enough pressure that he feels my intentions. "Sounds good," he says, his voice strangely higher than before.

"You likin' Texas? I heard it rains a lot up north." I smile. Margie never says Washington, merely stating that it is, in fact, up north.

I wiggle my toes from side to side and I both feel and see Edward squirm in his seat, slouching some. I press a little firmer, but not too much, for that. "It's nice. Warm. Sunny."

"You all right? You look a little flushed."

I have to bite my lip to keep my face straight and from dissolving into laughter. Edward _does_ look flushed. _I wonder why…_ "I'm fine. Probably just the sun. I'm not used to it," he tries to laugh, but it sounds strange.

Margie nods, apparently satisfied with his answer and turns her attention to Phil. Edward, no longer underneath Margie's gaze, grabs my foot in his hand and looks me in the eye. I shrink back, not because I'm afraid, but because I can't take the heat in his gaze. His eyes are dark and the look on his face says everything. He wants me just as much as I want him and he's going to take me and that's that. The only thing I can do in response is raise my eyebrows while shrugging my shoulders. _You're the one who wanted to play footsies._

_O-O-O-O-O_

"You go first," I say, standing on the second floor landing with Edward, unwilling to be at the front of our little duo on our way to the attic.

"It isn't even dark yet."

"Yeah, well, my bedroom door is closed and yeah it is. Look!" I point up the stairs, all shadowy and _oh my god, I don't even care, Edward is going first._

"The staircase is wide enough for us both."

"Are you freaked out too?"

Edward shoots me a look that says _'yeah, but you could help me keep my balls by not calling me out on it, thank you very much'. _

"Nevermind. You're right, we should go up together," I say, woman-ing up and taking his hand. I can feel the blisters starting on his palms regardless of the gloves he wore today and I feel bad, knowing that he's working at the ranch to stay with me. He has the money for us to stay in a hotel room, but he's risking calluses so I can spend time with my mom before heading back home. My fears are replaced with the sweet swell of love and I lean over and kiss his cheek before we step up on the first stair.

Edward turns on the overhead light as soon as we get upstairs and I can't look so I press my face into his shoulder.

"I thought you left the door open?"

"What?" I finally look, seeing the door shut and nothing else amiss. My bedroom door is even open a crack. "I know what I saw," I say quickly, already defensive. Just like with the daisies back in Forks, it's as if nothing happened at all.

"Is this the music box?" Edward asks, pulling his hand from mine to walk toward it.

"Yes."

He takes it off the shelf and sits down on the bed, patting the mattress beside him as a signal for me to join him. He jiggles the nondescript wooden box, finding the small crank on the side of it. "Hm."

"What?"

"It's stripped. Strange that it would play for you when it's broken."

"I swear it did. It played that Oh My Darlin' song."

Edward's eyes go wide and he sets the music box across his knees. "I'm going to call you Bella from now on. I can't call you Clementine. It'll just remind me of this."

"Okay," I agree, because yeah, I don't want to have to think about it more than I have to as it is.

Edward opens the box while I cling to his arm, already knowing that the key will be inside as if I never touched it. He picks it up carefully, turning it over in his palms. "Shall we unlock this door again?"

I don't know why, but his words sound ominous and weighted with finality. Maybe this is another one of those now or never moments that we inevitably face. All I know is that I would have chosen 'never' because I'm not about to step foot inside that room again without Edward beside me.

"Let's do this," I say, standing with him. I watch with rapt attention as Edward unlocks the door and pushes it open slowly. Everything is too quiet, the kind of quiet that makes me nervous. It's the dead silence of a sound waiting to happen. I hear it then, a click of something hitting against something else.

"What the fuck?" Yeah, Edward isn't handling this any better than I did. We take a step back and I hold his hand tighter. He pulls me to him tight as something comes from the doorway.

It's a marble. It bumps Edward's shoe and he jumps back to the bed in one leap, dragging me with him.

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"This isn't cool."

"I could have told you that."

Another click sounds and a second marble rolls across the wood floor out of the shadows of the room, stopping near the first.

"I'll do it," I say, equal parts scared and ready to face things as long as Edward is with me. He's my strength in this mess.

"Do what?"

"Stick my arm in there and find a light switch."

"Are you crazy?"

"Would you rather do it?"

His wide eyes meet mine and he shakes his head slowly. "Nope. I'll still love you even if you only have one arm. I promise."

I grimace, not wanting to think such things. "Thanks for the visual."

"No problem," he says distractedly, looking back toward the doorway.

I scoff, pulling my hand from his. I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders, trying to ward off any trepidation still left in me. I can either face this with Edward or never face it all and always wonder and quite possibly meet a grisly end. Of course this is scary. Not so much because it's the unknown but because I have been hardwired to be afraid of unexplainable things. I'm human, after all, and things like this don't happen every day.

I think about a lot of things in the several steps to the doorway. What I could find, what I may not find, what I may see, what I may not see. There's a whole list of possibilities and the only thing I want, just one measly little thing, is a bridge for all of these things that have been plaguing me to make sense. I need the piece, the key if you will, to unlock the door of logical explanation. Even if my answer isn't logical, I need some form of rhyme or reason to make sense of everything.

I approach the door and squeeze my eyes shut, quickly feeling around the wall for a switch. _Please let there be a switch._ My fingers do in fact cross over a switch much to my relief and I flip it up, seeing the brightness of the light through my eyelids.

"What the hell?" Edward says, much too close to my ear and I jump.

"Now you come in here?"

"Look," he says, ignoring my aggravation.

I turn slowly and see a room that is the mirror image of the one I've been staying in. The same wood floors and a twin bed pushed against the far left wall. A chest of drawers stands opposite the bed and a small rocking chair sits at an angle beside of it. There are newspapers taped thick over the window – why, I have no idea – and there is a trunk and various boxes stacked around. None of this is the strange part though. On the floor, in a perfect circle, is red string and within the circle of string are marbles scattered about. I can't imagine my mom and Margie playing a game of marbles and leaving it here the last time they were up here.

"That's just weird," I say. Everything is just weird.

"It looks like a game of Ringer."

"What's that?"

"Old marble game. You have to knock the smaller marbles out of the ring with your shooter – the bigger marbles – without knocking the shooter out of the perimeter. My dad taught me to play it when I was a kid."

"Do you believe me now?" I ask after a few moments of just looking around. I don't know what I expected, but all of this seems harmless enough, regardless of the fact that _something_ was playing a game of marbles until we came in here.

"I've always believed you, Bella."

"Why is this happening?" I whisper, not knowing what else to say.

"I don't know the answer to that, but I promise we're going to figure it out. Nothing bad is going to happen to us."

"How can you be so sure, Edward?"

"Just a feeling I have. Where do you want to look first?"

I look around the room once more, zoning in on the trunk. My mom told me when she gave me the dress that she had found it in a trunk while she and Margie were cleaning the attic. "Help me open this?" I ask, leaning down toward the heavy wooden box.

I flip open the latches on both sides and jiggle the metal lock in the middle. It pops open easily enough, appearing to be broken. Edward lifts the heavy lid and I peer inside, exhaling in frustration.

"It's empty."

"I think my mom and Margie cleaned it out. This is where my dress came from, I think. It's the only trunk I see," I say dejectedly, realizing that any hopes I may have had for answers or a clue have been thrown out the window.

Edward stands up and starts looking in the boxes and something dawns on me. The window. I stand up and walk over to it, looking at the newspapers taped all over. I run my fingers gently across the pages, feeling the brittleness of the yellowed pages. I have no idea how the tape is still holding the pages up, as it looks old and yellowed just like everything else. Most of the writing has faded right off of the paper, but I can make out a little bit. I have no idea what I'm looking for, but a date jumps out at me in the upper right hand corner. June 20th, 1970.

I get goosebumps, realizing that it's the same day as Edward's birthday, just a different year. I look over at him going through boxes, but he doesn't seem to be finding anything.

"Nothing?"

"Just knick-knacks and dishes."

I sigh, nodding my head. "I don't know why I thought I'd find something in here."

"Because something led you here. Maybe we should sleep on it and look again tomorrow. It's been a long day."

"Yeah, it has." More so for him than me. I can see the fatigue settling around him and I know he must desperately want a shower.

"We should pick up the marbles," he says, scooping them up into his hands. I notice a smallish leather pouch sitting on top of the chest of drawers and grab it, holding it open for him to pour the marbles into.

"Oh yeah," he says turning and walking away from me. "Can't forget the other two in here."

As soon as he steps over the threshold of the door, it slams shut, leaving me inside the room alone. The light flickers and I can feel an instant chill in the air that makes me shiver in more ways than one.

"Bella!" Edward's yelling, twisting the knob and knocking on the door loudly. I run over and try to open it from my side, but the lock has caught.

"It's locked! Use the key!" I all but scream, pulling and tugging at the knob as if I could break down the door. Unfortunately, oak is a strong wood and it just isn't happening for me.

"It's gone!"

"What!" I screech, my fear kicking up a notch.

I can hear Edward throwing things around, trying to find the key when I see something move in my peripheral vision. I turn, pressing my back against the door and stare in shock as the small rocking chair begins creaking back and forth as if an invisible someone is sitting in it.

"Oh my God!" Edward yells and I hear it too, the music box.

"I'm going to go get someone, Bella!"

"Don't leave me up here alone!" I scream, watching the rocking chair as it stops abruptly. The light flickers again and I'm about to throw something through the window when the chest of drawers rattles, the bottom drawer sliding open slowly. As soon as it is open, the light comes back to full brightness and the warmth in the air returns. But what causes me the most relief is the sound of the lock clicking open.

"Bella!" Edward yells, bursting through the door and knocking me forward. "Are you okay? What happened?" His eyes are frantic and I am shaking so hard he can barely hold me still when he wraps his arms around me. I can't talk, so I just stare at the open drawer.

"Bella, please talk to me. What happened?"

I breathe deeply and close my eyes, willing myself to feel safe now that Edward is with me again. "The drawer opened." My voice sounds so thin and small and I just want to cry.

Keeping his arm around me, Edward leans over and looks into it, pulling a small leather book from inside. "It's a journal."

I nod my head, my body too tired from all of the adrenaline I've had to deal with today. I don't even care about the journal. I just want everything to be safe again. I don't want disappearing daisies and white dresses and locking doors. I don't want to die, not anytime soon, and I don't want to deal with paranormal whatever the hell this is.

"I want to go home, Edward."

"We'll leave in the morning. I don't care what Margie says, I'm sleeping with you tonight."

"Yeah."

After awhile, it becomes obvious that no one heard our yells or commotion because this house is just too damned big. I sit in the bathroom while Edward showers and he does the same for me because we're both genuinely afraid to be alone. I can't wait to go home, but we need sleep first. It would also look strange if we just up and left so late at night. All I want, or need I should say, is familiar and Forks will always be familiar.

Neither of us can find the key to the room, so the door will have to remain unlocked for now. I sit the journal on my dresser and decide to leave it alone because I can't take anymore of anything today and when Edward crawls into bed, I follow, hoping I can actually sleep with the sound of his breaths and the warmth of his body acting as reminders that I'm not alone in this.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12:**

**Read Between the Lines**

I listen to Edward's breaths even out and deepen as he succumbs to sleep. I wish I could as well, but my mind is jumping from one thing to another and my eyes keep roaming to the bedroom door as if it's going to fling open any second. I don't like this feeling of paranoia, but how could I not feel this way? It's like I took a sabbatical from reality and stepped into a horror film where the things that fears are made of exist. I thought the disappearing daisies in Forks were bad. I had no idea it could be worse than that as far as unexplainable events go.

Someone, whoever it is, wanted me to find the journal. Why they felt the need to scare the shit out of me while pointing me in the right direction? I have no idea.

The bedside lamp is on for obvious reasons and I look over at the journal sitting on the dresser. I don't want to read it. Under normal circumstances, I would probably think it was the coolest thing ever, but not this time. It only serves the purpose of making me feel panicky. I'm at the point now where things are just unsettling. Nothing feels right, or like it ever will be again. I had hopes that when Edward and I experienced the same dream – and it was a good dream – that things had changed for the better. I had no idea that I was getting ready to open Pandora's Box – or jar – whatever Pandora had. I'm too tired to think about these things.

I force myself to close my eyes and start counting backward from one thousand, hoping the tedium will lull me enough to actually sleep. A soothing, dreamless sleep that will rejuvenate me for another day. A wonderful oblivion where I'm completely unaware of everything around me. So unaware that I wouldn't hear a sound. So deeply asleep that a ghost could be standing next to the bed watching me and I'd never know.

My eyes spring back open at that thought and I instantly flinch back, not because I actually see anything, but because I was expecting to. I'm _not_ disappointed that my expectations weren't met. I haven't been this afraid of things that go bump in the night since I was a kid. I was in kindergarten at the time and terrified to go to the bathroom at night because I had an irrational fear of hands reaching out from beneath my bed and grabbing my ankles. I never thought about what happened after this perceived monster dragged me away, but I didn't want to take my chances. I finally broke down and told my mom about the monster under my bed and she gave me a bottle of 'Monster Be Gone' when I came home from school that day. I know now that it was just a hairspray bottle covered in glitter and filled with water, but at the time, it was magical stuff that kept me safe and from peeing the bed. I wish I had something as simple as that now.

I feel guilty for cutting this trip short, knowing that I'll tell my mother that I need to leave sooner than I planned with no real reason why other than just wanting to go home. I don't want to hurt her feelings, especially when we can actually enjoy each other's company now that her life is no longer chaotic. I used to resent her for choosing a job over me, but I stopped feeling that way once I got a little older and understood a few things. She sent me to live with Charlie because he could give me structure and all the love I could possibly need. My mom had the sense enough to know that I couldn't be carted around from place to place every few months and grow up with any semblance of normalcy. She did her best by me and I'm so glad that I don't have to question if she loves me or not. I know she does because she sacrificed being in my life every day _for_ me. I just wish I could tell her all about the monsters I'm facing now. These are bigger and scarier than anything I could have come up with as a child and the difference between then and now as that these monsters are real. No amount of 'Monster Be Gone' could make these go away, I'm afraid.

Edward shifts next to me, still asleep, and I feel a little more content knowing I'm not alone. He saw and heard the same things I did. I wasn't the only witness to these things and I'm not the only one who felt the chilling fear. I don't want these things for him, but a selfish part of me is glad that I'm not trying to do this alone. It's easiest to just ignore and keep things to myself, but it's also lonely and harder to bear. I used to joke that I was the 'suffer in silence' type, but really, I like having someone to talk to about the situation I'm in, especially with someone I can trust. Not to mention the dreams.

I've entertained the idea of writing things down and trying to make sense of it all, but where is the logic in things that can't be explained to begin with? Electromagnetic field gone awry from atmospheric something or other causing a door to slam and lock, a key to disappear, a chair to rock, a drawer to open, and a broken music box to play all at once? And the lights flickering too. Oh, can't forget the marbles playing a game of Ringer by themselves. High tech marbles, they are. Sometimes science fails and I think this is one of those situations that can only be explained as an anomaly.

My eyes once again are drawn toward the journal. I don't want to take it back to Forks with me or the dress either, which is currently tucked away in my suitcase. I need to figure out a way to get rid of the dress and after what happened today, I think I'll enjoy cutting it up into little pieces and throwing it in the garbage. But the journal – I can't throw out someone's history like that. The dress is history as well, but it may still be my future in some way and I don't want that future. And _someone_ went through an awful lot of trouble to help me find the journal. As apprehensive as I am to read what may be written on the pages, ignorance is not always bliss.

I've never been so nervous to read something in my life as I gently get out of bed so I don't wake Edward and make my way to the journal. It's a small, brown leather rectangle. Nothing spectacular. Nothing seeming of consequence. I bring it back over to the bed with me and I sit down, trying to be as quiet as possible for Edward's sake. My heart's beating a little faster than it was a moment ago and I feel like I'm about to look at something I'm not supposed to see – like the feeling I had when I looked at a dirty magazine for the first time. Just like I did then, I open the journal to the first page.

There are no words, just a drawing. It's a pencil drawing of a horse so intricately detailed, it almost tricks the eye into thinking the picture is real. There is nothing two-dimensional about it, the shading done by someone who knew what they were doing. I turn the next page and see a drawing of the house, also vivid in detail. The house still looks the same from what I can tell, all but the rose bushes out front. They're hydrangeas now.

I turn to the third page and I see a man's hand and a woman's hand, their palms pressed together and their fingers interlocked. The level of talent displayed is incredible, each pencil stroke deliberate and purposeful, working together to create images that are reverent in each approach. I would _pay_ for drawings like this.

"Who are you?" I ask in a whisper, my fears replaced with curiosity. I turn the page again and instead of another drawing, I am met with words.

_March 14th, 1970_

_It's been a long time since I've felt the need to write anything down. It's not that I didn't want to, but I've been trying to avoid the truth, my own thoughts included. Each day is another day without him. I knew I would miss him, but I never thought it would be in such a crushing way. It's crazy, going through the motions and constantly feeling this ache inside of me. Sometimes, I think I might be losing my mind. This unbearable loneliness sneaks up on me and holds me hostage until I can't breathe and the tears won't stop. I want to call him but I can't. I feel so selfish, but he should be here with me. He should have been here when I needed him most._

_I can't think about this. Uncle Sam never asked me what I wanted. He just took from me._

_My nephew is finally learning how to walk. I love to watch his tiny little legs wobble across the floor. He isn't sure of his feet yet and he falls every few steps, but I know it's only a matter of time before he's running through these fields and learning how to ride the horses. I love him so much even though it adds to the ache that won't go away. _

_Margie has been my rock now that my whole world has been turned upside down. She's always so level headed and knows exactly what to do, just like Daddy did. I never know what to do, so I guess that balances out. I feel useless, not being any help around the ranch and not going to college. I could go to secretarial school or maybe become a stewardess, but I'm tied to home until I can see him again. I'm so wary of moving forward without him here because I'm terrified he won't come back if I do. It's just a superstition I have, but I can't take a chance when it comes to him._

_I understand that things change and keep moving forward, really I do, but I wasn't prepared for any of this. Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow. I keep waiting for the day that I'll wake up and find my heart doesn't feel so shattered._

_-Daisy_

I close the journal and take a deep breath. _Daisy._ I can't help but think of the flowers back home and the mention of them from the dream. Margie's sister was so sad. I can relate to her pain in a tiny, minute way because as soon as I got on that plane to come here to Texas, I began missing Edward. If I'm being honest, I started missing him as soon as I left his house that last afternoon we spent together in Forks. The big difference, though, is that I chose to go. Daisy never left. She just made do with the cards she was dealt and had a miserable time of it.

I'm assuming the man she loved went away to war, Vietnam it would seem, due to the date and Uncle Sam reference. I don't know much about that time period other than the activist groups, Woodstock, hippies, and that a lot of people died over there. We're in a war right now, technically, but no one seems too bent out of shape about it. Road side bombs, acts of terrorism, _people_ with bombs strapped to them – it's all over the news at times.

I shiver, imaging Edward enlisting and being sent to Afghanistan or Iraq. I was two days shy of fourteen when the towers fell on September 11th, 2001 and President Bush declared it an act of terrorism from al Qaeda. Osama bin Laden was thought to be behind everything and American soldiers still haven't caught him yet. I remember sitting on the couch with Charlie, watching the footage of the second plane hitting over and over again, so sad that so many innocent people lost their lives for nothing. That was one of the very few times I've ever seen my dad get emotional and I was emotional too, right along with him. I'd never seen so many people hang the American flag outside of their homes than I did in the months that followed that day. Several boys and a few girls from around town enlisted and there was a big send off for them at the local tavern. I didn't go obviously because I was only fourteen, but Charlie and Billy did.

I can commend the military for its overall bravery and support the troops, but there's so much more to it than that. These people defending our country have families and friends. They have histories and lovers and hearts and fears. How hard would it be to risk your life when you knew what you were leaving behind? Maybe that's the reason – where the strength comes from – keeping those you love safe. It's definitely a selfless act. And I know someone who is that selfless. He's lying right here next to me, stirring awake.

"You're still up?" Edward asks, his voice thick from sleep.

"I was just thinking about things and doing a little reading. Did I wake you up?"

"No. I was dreaming," he says quietly, leaning up on his elbow.

I used to love having and hearing about dreams up until recently. There was a quote I once read, I can't remember who said it, but it went something like 'dreaming allows us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives'. I thought it was so funny when I read it and I would still hold onto that concept today if other things weren't happening to confirm my _insanity_. "Do I want to know what this dream was about?"

He shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. "It's nothing prophetic or anything like that. Sometimes dreams are just dreams. Comes with the territory of being human and sleeping."

"If you say so. I can't sleep at all," I say, reaching over to brush an errant piece of hair from his eyes. He's much too beautiful for his own good.

He grins as if he heard that thought and looks down, seeing the journal resting on my lap. "Anything interesting?"

"She was an amazing artist," I say, showing him the drawing of the house as it's the most detailed. "I only read the first entry, though. I feel like I'm intruding on her private thoughts. I am, really. I wouldn't want anyone to read my journal."

"Yeah, well I think it's pretty damned obvious that you were supposed to find it. What did it say?"

I put Daisy's journal on the bedside table and turn toward Edward, curling my body into his, finding all the places I seem to fit so well. I place my hand on his chest over his heart and slide my knee between his, content that I have the opportunity to be so close to him. It's crazy how we've developed in so little time – almost two months – and how he's become my best friend on top of everything else. Maybe we're just naïve and if that's the case, I don't want to be anything else. How could I not have this? How could I possibly go for long periods of time without him, all the while not knowing if he was seeing and experiencing unspeakable things? I don't think I could handle something like that, especially not after reading a piece of Daisy's story.

"It was incredibly sad. I think her guy went to Vietnam and she was talking about how she was afraid to live her life and be happy because it might jinx him from coming home. Sounds illogical, but I understand it."

"I doubt he would have wanted that."

"Me too, but I can see why she felt that way. Always wondering if he was okay while she was at home safe with her family. It would mess with my head and I'd feel guilty."

"I'm sure it was hard for him too."

I nod. "That's my point. He was aware that she was at home and safe which was probably a source of comfort for him, but she didn't know about him. I mean, yeah, they could write letters, but they couldn't have designated web cam chats like you can today. Either way, I don't know if I could do it."

"I don't know if I could either. I've always wanted to enlist, but I hadn't realized until you took off for Texas how essential you've become to me. Having no way to contact you," he closes his eyes and shakes his head. "I've never felt hollow like that."

Guilt is a funny thing. There's really no way around it. I did something that I thought would be beneficial in some way and it wasn't. It hurt me and it hurt Edward. I can't take it back no matter how much I may want to.

"I'm sorry, Edward."

"You were in a screwed up situation. Still are."

"I just don't want to drag you down with me if these _things_ escalate."

Edward holds me tighter and his voice comes out in a low, harsh tone. "Don't you know that wherever you go I'll follow? Can't you understand that, Bella? I'm a sure thing for as long as you'll have me. I have to know that you're okay."

My breath catches and all I can do is nod. I'm not a particularly sensitive girl, but something about Edward makes me feel every little thing times infinity. I thought for a hot minute that I could maybe love Emmett, even Jake for like a second, but neither choice would have held a candlestick to this. What I have with Edward is consuming, selfless yet possessive, raw – it's untamable like a wildfire blazing out of control. It's unnerving to crave another human being like this, but at the same time it's the greatest, most exhilarating rush I've ever experienced. It's all so big and I'm nowhere near ready for anything that my life is throwing at me right now, but I'll make do. My life may be filled with way too many dark things at the moment, but I can't let them stop me from holding on as tight as I can to the good. That's the thing about tragic endings – they're painful, but there's also room for a wistful smile because there's always that hint of light dappled through the shadows.

I look up at Edward and see so much. I used to wish for lingering stares and a hint that he felt something for me too. I would stare at his mouth and wonder what it would feel like to have his lips against mine and to hear him say sweet words – much like the kind he just said to me. It's hard to fathom that I have these things now and I'm no longer a coveter. He's here with me and it's as if we've always been.

I take his hand in mine and turn it palm up, tracing my finger along his life line. It's a deep, strong curve with no skips or gaps. I'm not a palm reader, but I have a feeling if I look at my life line it won't be as sure as Edward's.

"Talk to Margie," he says, tensing up beneath me.

"What about?" I ask, taken aback by the urgency lacing his voice.

"Is her sister dead?"

"I'm pretty sure she is. Why?" I don't know for a fact, but one would think so if Margie was donating her sister's clothes to Goodwill. _I tried donating something of hers too. Wonder if any of her other clothes came back to Margie?_ I bite back a smile at thought, as morbid as it may be. Now isn't the time for humor, even if it is dark.

"What if you're dreaming of the past? I mean, everything started happening when you got that dress. It belonged to Margie's sister, right?"

Hope springs in my chest and I sit up, straddling his hips. "Do you really think that?"

"It's a possibility. Maybe she needs someone to know her story."

_Please, God, whoever, please let this be right._ "If this is the case, everyone probably thinks Daisy killed herself. I mean, she did, but there was more to it than that."

"_Daisy?"_

I nod, knowing exactly what he's thinking. "Yeah, I know. It made me feel weird."

"This would explain so much. Obviously the things that happened were, you know, _ghostly._ Daisies for Daisy, maybe?"

"What about the dream we had together?"

Edward smiles lightly. "It was good, Bella. I just believe that what we have is good and only going to get better over time."

It's hard to wrap my mind around, but it just makes sense. The fears in my dreams were so similar to what Daisy wrote about. Then there were the two good dreams, those that were full of hope and sweetness and lust. I'd always been open to spiritual things until they actually started happening to me. Maybe that's why I was chosen – my life was mirroring Daisy's in some way. Edward considering joining the military, the war in Iraq and Afghanistan, the all consuming love I feel for Edward. It just makes sense to believe Edward's theory because my and Daisy's life have so many parallels.

"I think we'll be good too," I agree with him. How could I not?

"I don't know why it never occurred to me before. It's her stuff that you keep running across."

I let hope wash over me because I really_ do_ believe that Edward is right. All these weeks of worry and Edward has a plausible solution. It doesn't even hit me that I may be getting in over my head with really heavy stuff, like the fact that Daisy didn't go peacefully. I'm too caught up in relief. There _is_ a light at the end of the tunnel and I welcome it, even if it means that I'll have to go through a little bit more dark to get there.

"I love you," I say, smiling. I doubt he knows just how much comfort he's given me with his theory.

"I love you too."

I'm beaming down at him with my hands pressed flat against his shoulders, and I don't know if it's the fact that I have some peace of mind now or what, but I've never wanted to kiss him more than I do this very second. As if he knows what I'm thinking his gaze flickers down to my mouth and his fingers trail up my legs, stopping at my hips. I'm in awe because I'm not just wanting to do these things – I actually _can_. Heat rushes through me and I lean forward, letting my hair fall around us as memories of the two of us bubble up to the surface.

"Do you think they would hear us?" I ask, rocking against him as I drag my lips lightly across his.

"They didn't hear us yelling and banging on the door earlier."

"This bed is kind of creaky," I say, rolling my hips to make a point.

"Who said we need to be in a bed?" he asks, raising an eyebrow, his little smirk making an appearance.

I can't handle him saying things like that. He's evil and so very good at the same time. "The floor?"

"Sure," he says, leaning up to trail kisses along my neck. "Or up against the wall." He kisses my shoulder. "Or bent over the dresser." His hands find their way under my shirt. "Or in the bathroom where you can watch what I do to you in that nice, big mirror." The heat I was feeling is now a warm ache, pulsing and making me tremble.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me."

His lips find mine and he kisses me, running his tongue lightly along my upper lip. "I'm hoping it's similar to what you do to me."

I thread my fingers through the thick, silky mess of his hair and kiss him again. I can feel the effect I have on him and it drives me crazy to think that he could want me like that. I know what we have, but there is still a part of me that is so used to loving him from afar that having him say these things now only amplifies their meaning.

He pulls away from me and takes a deep breath. "I plan on making love to you as often as possible for the rest of my life. No rush."

_Definitely evil_. "Get on the floor, Edward."

"You'll have to let me up first."

_Oh._ I slide off of his lap and stand up, grabbing the blanket from the bed. My legs feel like jelly and I have a million butterflies in my stomach, but it's all so _good_. I know that we're technically adults, but it feels like we're about to do something bad right now which makes it all hotter. I smile at Edward as I lay the blanket down and grab the pillows to add to my makeshift un-creaky bed.

"What did I do with my wallet?" Edward asks and I have a moment where I imagine us in the future, him older and scatterbrained, trying to find his things before heading to work. I smile because _I_ imagined it. It was a fantasy of my own doing.

"Check the jeans you wore earlier?"

He roots through his duffle bag and I lean down on the blanket, waiting for him. My heart is pounding and I'm excited and nervous in a good way that we're about to defy authority and do this anyway. It's been awhile since I've felt like the girl I was around graduation, but Edward has found a way to give me back my sense of normalcy and I've never been so thankful.

"I put it in the front pocket…"

Edward's voice fades away and I'm no longer in the bedroom, but out beneath a gnarled, twisted oak. The sun has come up and it's so bright through the leaves, but all I can see is white cotton and blood. Death is coming and I can't fight it off. The pain is fading because I'm fading and all I can think about is the reprieve that comes with infinite sleep.

I'm sorry, so sorry.

"Bella." I hear Edward calling my name and feel him shaking my shoulders. "What did you see?"

The tears come before I find my voice. The lump in my throat is hard to swallow and my hope is fading as quickly as it came. "You're wrong."

"What do you mean?"

I shake my head and grab at my hair, frustrated and buckling under the weight of my fears. "The dress, Edward. If it was the past then where are the stains? The hole the knife made? It's perfect."

Edward's brows pull together and he wraps me up in his arms, muttering a 'son of a bitch'.

My thoughts exactly.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**Just for Kicks**

The shrill beeping of Edward's cell phone alarm jolts the two of us awake. We made it through the night, even though the morning light is weak and the sun is barely a hint on the horizon. I stretch my limbs and shiver, the coolness of early morning seeming a little colder without Edward's warmth wrapped up around me. After the events of last night and my emotional breakdown that subsequently followed, neither of us got any sleep. A few hours at most, and I feel guilty, seeing the fatigue that makes Edward's eyes bloodshot and his posture sag.

"I think I need a pot of coffee," Edward says, his voice rough from sleep.

I nod, sitting up and wrapping my arms around my legs. I want to tell him good morning and kiss him awake, but that doesn't translate to what I do say. "I'm sorry you're down in this."

Edward shakes his head and grabs a fresh t-shirt from his duffle bag. "Keeping you safe is the only thing I'm concerned about right now."

"Thank you," I say, honestly touched by his words. It's not that I don't know the depth of Edward's feelings for me – I feel that depth every day – it still amazes me to have them reaffirmed.

He sits next to me and holds his t-shirt in his fists. "We shouldn't go back to Forks yet."

"Yeah," I agree with him. "I still need to talk to Margie."

"I just want to get everything figured out."

"You and me both. It'd be nice if we were in a normal relationship."

Edward smiles even though he looks a little sad. "You know what I think?"

"What's that?"

"I think that we're going to be okay. We'll figure this out and we'll appreciate each other more than the average couple because of everything we've been through. I'm not afraid to fight for what I want, and that includes you. I'm not giving up and I don't want you to think this is all a burden on me. It's always been you, Bella. I just didn't know it at the time."

"How perfect can you get?"

He laughs and runs his fingers through his hair, tousling it more than it already is. He looks almost shy. "I think perfect may be in the eye of the beholder. You know – like beauty."

"You're definitely beautiful too. Most of the females in Forks, young and old alike, agree with me. My own mother even told me you're a cutie."

"I prefer ruggedly handsome and manly."

"Attacking hay with a hoe is definitely manly." He laughs which makes me smile in return.

"I'm a hay ho," he says, his laughter turning into loud guffaws. It's so dumb it's funny and I join in, glad that there's still room for us to laugh about silly things despite everything else going on.

"I need to get out there with Emmett before Margie comes looking for me. I don't want her to think I'm disrespecting her by not listening."

"Wait for me to get dressed too?" I'm not about to stay up here alone, even though I'm pretty sure that Daisy is behind all of this.

"Of course."

On my way to the bathroom, I eye the door to what I'm now assuming was Daisy's room. Quickly, just so I can be sure, I look inside the music box for the key. It's there.

"What are you doing?" Edward asks, eying me warily.

"Looks like we can lock the door again," I deadpan, not knowing how else to react.

"I doubt it'll make a difference whether we do or not."

"Me too," I say, shaking my head as I walk into the bathroom all the while hating that I'm getting to the point that these things are becoming normal for me.

O-O-O-O-O

Margie isn't anywhere in the house, but I see that my mother is already out at the stables, watching the men get the horses out to let them graze the fields for the day. I stare at her for a moment, watching her small smile and contentment as she stands to the side with her cup of coffee. She's happy here and has never once complained of strange things, so I don't want to ruin this bubble she has with any words about freakish things that may make her lose that sense of comfort. I can't deny that she has a really good thing going with Phil and I know that she is loved by both him and his motley crew of a family.

"Hey, Mom," I say quietly, leaning into her when she wraps an arm around me. _Huh._ When did I grow so tall? I never noticed before, but it seems fitting somehow. I'm not a kid anymore, but a woman that has grown taller than her own mother, even if it is only by an inch or two. She's become the smaller of the two of us and all I can remember is being so little, a waif only coming up to her waist, and praying that I would grow to be as beautiful as her. Mom held all of the answers to easing my pains with a kiss, a hug, and a bowl of ice cream. I doubt she'd have any remedies to the things happening to me now.

"You're up early."

"Yeah, I woke up with Edward."

"I knew you two were sleeping in the same bed. I won't tell Margie." Her smile has a hint of mischievousness to it and I grin in return, wishing I could tell her that it was fear that drove Edward and I to share a bed and not the wondrous, hormonal things that I'd prefer.

"It wasn't like that, Mom." It almost was, but then it all went to hell.

Her smile broadens and her eyes get a soft, wistful look. "I never said that it was. I know what it's like to have that feeling just to be near the person you love. That's when you know it's real. You feel just as satisfied being in his arms as you do with _other_ things."

If my mother hadn't always been so open with me, I might have blushed. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"I know you do, baby," she says, kissing my cheek.

"Speaking of Margie, where is she?"

"She and Whitey went to pick up feed for the animals. Everyone's scrambling to get everything in order before the stock show next week. I can't wait for you to see all the riders. I was hesitant at first, but you just get sucked in," she says animatedly, her excitement apparent.

This is the hard part of saying goodbye sooner than expected. All of the things you could have, should have, would have gets left behind and remains unfinished. So we're staying an extra day, but not the full week. I take a deep breath. _Now or never._ "Mom, Edward and I decided that we're going to start heading back to Washington early. Tomorrow, most likely. We want to make a few stops on the way and we need enough time to get everything settled in Seattle before classes start."

It all sounds flimsy, but most of it's true. We _have_ planned to make a few stops and we _do_ need to figure out if we're going to stay together in an apartment or in dorms. It feels strange to say 'we', but that's exactly what Edward and I have become. I am still a whole person and so is he, but somewhere along the line his life became inextricably tied with mine.

"Oh," she starts, looking a little deflated. "I was hoping you would stay until the show. Phil rides in it and he won last year for his division. He'll be in the champion's circle this year."

"Yeah, I'd like to stay too, but summer is slipping by pretty quick. Edward wants to tour Arizona a little bit and I wouldn't mind going through California instead of Colorado. Remember when we vacationed in Carmel when I was ten?"

She nods. "We stayed in a cute little beach house and ate ice cream until we were sick."

"That's one of my favorite memories. And going out on that sailboat. I was so scared but you told me I knew how to swim if we capsized."

She laughs. "I know. That's probably not what you wanted to hear, but you were always so unwilling to face your fears. I was trying to show you that sometimes taking risks can be a good thing."

"I've faced plenty of my fears. I do every day," I say quietly, aware that she has no idea how true my statement is.

"Still afraid of clowns?"

_Ew._ "Possibly."

"They're just people with grease paint on their faces."

"It's unnatural."

"That's the point, Bella."

"People are just as funny without all the props," I argue, thankful that my mother is making me feel better. Maybe she _does_ still hold some of that old magic that worked on me when I was young.

"You're silly," she says, pulling me into a hug. "How about I make us some breakfast and we spend some time together today? I know you've been alone most of your time here, but I think we can find something to get into."

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"French toast?"

I haven't had my mother's French toast in years. "Absolutely."

I watch my mother go inside and I see Edward and Emmett making their way to the stables. Neither of them looks ready for a hard day of work, especially not Emmett.

"Morning, Em," I say, giving him a wave.

I can't even," he cuts himself off and grabs his head. "You have any idea what White Lightning is, Swan?"

I know exactly what it is. It goes by many names and is Whitey's drink of choice. "You drank the Moonshine, didn't you?"

"Is that what it was? All I know is that it tasted like shit and only took three shots to make the world spin."

I know he's hung over and that kind of thing just isn't funny, but then again, it kind of is. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to drink anything that smells like gasoline?"

Emmett groans, leaning up against the outside wall of the stables. "Shut up, Swan. I can't even think right now."

"Whitey got me with that too, but I didn't keep drinking it."

"Yeah well he and Otis were playing cards right next to the pullout and that cabin is fucking small and they were too loud. Couldn't sleep, so I joined them."

"Miss Forks yet?"

Emmett shrugs his shoulders and rubs his temples. "I miss my girl, not Forks. My cell kept going in and out of service and Otis was talking to his son on his landline so I didn't get to tell her goodnight."

Edward doesn't even react when Emmett refers to Rosalie as his girl which makes me feel a little warm inside. "I didn't know Otis has a son."

"Yep. He has a grandkid too and an ex wife that wasn't cut out for ranch life. She got bored and ran off with a trucker."

I look around, curious how someone could get bored around here. I haven't even begun to explore the acreage and I've already seen a ton of things to do. I guess some people are harder to please than others. I wouldn't mind a little simplicity, in all honesty. It sounds refreshing in light of everything that's been happening to me.

"Hey boys!" My mother calls from the front porch, getting their attention. "Margie said to just clean the coops today. The other stalls don't need cleaned out yet."

Edward sighs in relief. "Thank God. I don't think I could handle another set of stalls. Gets too hot too quick."

"This is a sign," Emmett says. "The hang over gods are blessing me right now. Thank you," he mumbles, hitting his chest twice with his fist and raising it to the sky.

I shake my head and turn toward Edward, wrapping my arms around his torso. "I've been in the coops. It'll probably only take you an hour to change out the bedding. They're kind of small."

Edward nods and kisses my cheek. "Maybe we can go do something today. Clear our heads."

"Like what?"

He shrugs. "Go find a McDonald's or something. It's the American way. Every place has the golden arches nearby."

I laugh, hugging him tighter. "I'd like that. It's a date."

"Well, we better get started. Quicker we get done, the quicker you and I can get out of here."

"What am I – chopped liver?" Emmett asks, looking genuinely wounded having overheard my and Edward's exchange.

"You can come too," I say, giving him a small smile.

"Yes! McDouble, chicken McNuggets, two – not one – _two_ apple pies for a buck. I'm all over that dollar menu."

"Am I going to regret inviting you?" I tease, warmed by Emmett's easy going nature.

"Nah, I feel better already. I'll be too busy clogging my arteries to pay attention to you two making smoochie faces at each other." He groans. "I totally forgot they have milkshakes. Forks really needs to get a Mickey D's."

I feel lighter now thanks to my conversation with my mother and Emmett's antics. I kiss Edward quickly and try to flatten the piece of hair that keeps sticking up at his crown. "Have a good day at work, honey."

We both laugh and Edward kisses me again, making me feel like I'm melting inside in a good way that I feel all the way down into my toes. "I'll try to be quick."

I watch the boys head over to the chicken coops before I join my mother inside the kitchen. The smells of cinnamon and maple assault me as soon as I step through the archway and I smile when I see my mother humming along to the radio as she stands in front of the griddle.

"I didn't know you liked country, Mom."

She startles a little bit and chuckles. "It grows on you. You have your choice of country, football commentary replays, or church sermons."

"Yeah, I'd probably choose the music too."

"Set the table? I'm almost finished."

I nod and grab two plates from the cabinet and a couple of forks from the drawer. As I arrange them on the table, I notice the drawing hanging on the wall of two horses nuzzling each other as if they're hugging. I've noticed it before and thought nothing of it, but now I can see the signs of the artist who drew it. I step closer and run my fingers gently over the glass of the frame and see her signature in the bottom right hand corner. _Daisy Evanson_. Her handwriting is unmistakable and I trace the capital D and E, wondering when she drew this and when it was hung up. There's a shape between her first and last name like a crescent moon, an added touch that transforms her signature into a work of art of its own.

"Mom?"

"Hm?" she answers, adding food to the plates.

"Do you know where Margie's sister is? Daisy?" I ask, sitting down across from her.

"Here's the syrup," she says, handing me a small gravy boat filled with warmed maple syrup. My mother doesn't skimp on French toast. It's one of the few things she perfected over the years.

"Daisy?" I try again, curious to see if Margie shared anything with her.

"She died a long time ago when Phil was just a toddler."

"Do you know what happened to her?"

"It was a car accident. It was really tragic from what I gathered. Margie wasn't very forthcoming with details." I don't know why I was still hoping to hear suicide, but obviously my inclinations after being reminded of the dress last night still hold. "Her room kind of gave me the creeps when we cleaned it out."

_Yet you still gave me the dead girl's dress_, I wanted to say, but I bit my tongue on that comment. "Which room?"

"The room opposite yours. Margie keeps it locked though."

_Yeah, well, I unlocked it and that particular lock kind of has a mind of its own when it wants to._ "That's too bad. What happened to her, I mean."

"How did you know her name was Daisy? Did I tell you?"

_Oops._ "When you gave me the dress," I say, even though it's a lie. "I was just wondering about it."

"Do you have the dress with you?"

"Yeah." _I'm still trying to figure out a way to blow it to smithereens without getting caught_.

"You should wear it before you leave. I want to see you in it."

_I'd rather eat dirt, Mother._ "Maybe. I don't want it to get ruined."

"Don't be silly. I want to take a few pictures of you and Edward. I still scrapbook in my spare time and I'd love to make you one commemorating your summer." Her face lights up with excitement. "Oh, we can do a little mini photo shoot! You can wear the dress and we can go find some pretty places and take pictures. Edward should be in some too. I bet you'll appreciate it ten years from now when you have screaming babies and you're wondering why you ever married him in the first place."

I gape at my mother. What else am I supposed to do? "You think I'm going to be married to Edward and have screaming babies ten years from now?" In all honesty, though, that sounds better than being dead in a field.

"You never know, Bella. And a word of advice – if a guy drives from Washington to Texas just to talk to you, he's a keeper."

I nod my head, even though I'm still reeling from her comment. Do Edward and I appear that serious to people? I take a bite of my food and chew slowly, contemplating the answer to that question. I also pretend not to notice the ache blooming in my chest when it hits me that Edward and I may never get the chance to become the American Dream statistic.

O-O-O-O-O

Edward, Emmett, and I are at the McDonald's in Stephenville. Edward and I are still eating, but Emmett inhaled his food and is now lounging in the ball pit at the playground inside. All I can see are his head, hands and feet amidst the sea of primary color balls surrounding him. I'm just thankful that no kids or parents are here at the moment.

"Em, you really need to grow up someday, buddy," Edward says, shaking his head.

"You don't know how comfortable this is. You're missing out."

"Did you know that ball pits are more unsanitary than public bathrooms?" I supply, hoping this will get him out of the ball pit even though I'm amused.

"Swan, I've been shoveling shit for two days. I'm obviously not afraid of germs."

I sigh, smiling anyway. "I tried."

"He's always like this. I _would _like to see him tackle a mechanical bull though. Maybe on our way back we can find a place."

"I'd like that." It's a rollercoaster, being afraid of what is to come yet looking forward to moments shared between myself and the people I'm surrounded with. I don't want to die unhappy and having wished I lived a little more. I already feel like I've wasted too much time as it is.

"What are you thinking about?"

I look into Edward's eyes and am startled by the concern in them. I always wanted him to look at me, to see me, and now he does. I intertwine my fingers with his, filled with gratitude that I got at least one thing I really wanted out of life. "My mom told me about Daisy."

"What did she say?"

"She was killed in a car accident. Mom said Margie didn't really want to talk about it because it was really bad, I guess. If my mom can't get details out of Margie, I don't think I could either."

"You should still try. There's obviously some kind of connection there."

"I just don't know what."

"When we get back to the ranch, we should write everything down and see if we can't make order out of everything. See if things don't jump out at us if we have it in writing."

"I'm kind of tired of things jumping out at me. Aren't you?"

He smirks. "I don't mind as long as I'm expecting them to."

"Good point."

After wrangling Emmett from the ball pit and throwing away our garbage, we head back to the ranch. Emmett lets me sit up front and I fiddle with the radio, tuning in a country song that I actually know. Charlie likes this song.

"You and me goin' fishin' in the dark, lyin' on our backs and countin' the stars, where the cool grass grows," I sing along, making Edward laugh.

"Charlie used to listen to this song."

"Yeah, blame your secret love of bluegrass on your dad."

"Oh whatever… Stayin' the whole night through! Feels so good to be with you!" I sing louder.

"Yeah, it does." His smile is radiant and I watch him, letting those feel-good butterflies wash over me because I caused it.

"What the hell?" he asks, that smile I was so proud of faltering.

I look ahead and see flashing lights in the distance from an ambulance parked in front of the house. My stomach plummets and a thousand things run through my mind. _Please let my mom be okay, please let my mom be okay…_

Edward pulls into the entrance of the ranch and before he has the car in park, I open the door and run toward the ambulance. Relief washes over me when I see my mom standing with Phil, clutching his arm.

"What happened?"

"Oh, baby," she says, tears staining her cheeks. "Margie had an accident."

"Is she okay?"

She shakes her head and looks back to where the medics are huddled near the stables. I see them putting a neck brace on Margie and situating her on a bright orange board. "She was putting feed in the troughs and she fell down. One of the horses kicked her and she went unconscious."

"Oh my god." I take a step closer and see the swelling and blue-black bruises on the side of Margie's face, feeling sick to my stomach. Margie's a small woman and she looks even more so now that she's being lifted onto a gurney.

"Anyone riding with us?" One of the medics ask, looking around at us standing here.

"We'll ride behind you," Phil says, grabbing my mom's hand and heading toward the truck.

"Bella, baby, I'll call you as soon as we find out something, okay?"

I nod my head and watch as the medics load Margie up into the back of the ambulance. She looks so frail now that she's not running around and yelling out orders. It hurts to see her like that and tears sting my eyes. I've grown really fond of her.

"She'll be okay," Edward says, coming up behind me to wrap his arms around my shoulders. I lean back into his chest and let my tears fall as the ambulance and truck pull away. Not only do I want Margie to be okay, but I am also left with the realization that I won't be talking to her about Daisy any time soon.

"I don't think this was a coincidence, Edward. I needed to talk to her and she got hurt."

"Bella, you can't think like that. Beanie was just telling me yesterday that horses are unpredictable. He broke his collarbone from being kicked by one of those little ones."

"Shetlands."

"It's part of working with animals, Bella. You never heard stories about dogs turning on their owners out of nowhere? It happens all the time. This isn't your fault."

I nod. "Either way, you're brave for sticking around me." I pull away from his arms and go inside, unable to listen to him trying to make me feel better. I've had too many things happen to me in the last two months for me to believe in something like coincidence. There was always room for it, even when I would say that everything happens for a reason, but after everything else, I just can't believe it. Not yet.

I never wanted to be a bitter person, but everything is catching up with me all at once. I don't have any real answers and all I have is this fear of the world spinning from beneath my feet. I don't want to be afraid of what's behind every corner and what lurks in the shadows. I just want to go to McDonald's with my boyfriend and laugh at his friend.

I feel like I'm being played like a pawn and I don't know who or what is holding the pieces – my pieces. I'm sick of everything, especially this whole _why me, poor me_ that I keep going through. Nothing is changing.

My feeling of helplessness toward the situation I am in quickly turns to one of anger. It feels separate from me, flexing and pulsing in my chest. I've never felt such a need to spread the darkness harboring inside of me, knowing that I'm getting too weak to keep at bay. I want to smash my fist into something or tear the sheets off my bed. Something. Anything. I can talk and talk and talk and it seems as if nothing is going to change.

I want answers and a new day where none of this exists and I'm just a kid going off to college to gain the freshman fifteen and join a few clubs while I dip my feet into adulthood. I want to go to frat parties and get too drunk and have nights I barely remember, not visions and ghosts keeping me from enjoying what's in front of me. On top of everything else, I don't want Edward to be afraid for me anymore. And I don't want anything to happen to him either. That would be the last straw.

I'm at the foot of the stairs and I smack my hand against the wall, feeling my palm tingle from the force. Without thinking, I start making my way up, stomping my feet because it makes the pressure in my chest lessen. I'm tired of waiting, now I'll try demanding. I would be afraid to be up here alone if I wasn't so angry and knowing that fact just makes me angrier.

"What?" I ask aloud to nothing in particular.

The silence just pisses me off. "You can do all kinds of things when I'm not expecting it, but now you can't? I don't know why this is happening to me, but I'd really like to. Is that too much to ask?"

My voice is rough with ire and falls flat in the quiet. I'm staring at the door to Daisy's room but the _thunk_ sound comes from behind me. I turn, not knowing what to expect and see the journal open and laying on the floor. I walk towards it without fear and pick it up, looking at the page. It's a drawing of a window that looks out into blackness. Just like all the others, I can see that it is beautifully done by someone with an eye for details and talented hands.

"Okay, Daisy." A window? I turn the page and find a small, disjointed entry.

_June 19__th__, 1970_

_Empty hearts and empty eyes. I promise I won't look anymore._

What the hell? I look up from the journal and see my window, knowing that the view does not match that of the drawing. But…

I turn and look at the door that sits opposite mine, seeing a thin shaft of light spilling from beneath it. _That's new._ All I can hear is my heart pounding in my ears and the sound of my feet with each step, bringing me closer to the truth.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14:**

**Luck of the Draw**

The air smells stale, like musty and decaying paper – a smell that I never noticed the last time I was in this room. It is dark, the absence of light, all but for the thin ray coming from the corner of the window. I watch it, fascinated by the beam that carries all the way to the door, watching the dust motes floating around in it. The newspaper has been loosened, peeled back a little, and my need to know is more overwhelming than my need to flee.

Ask and you shall receive…

With swift steps, I walk across the floor, promptly digging my fingers beneath the lifted edge of the newspapers and I peel it back. It comes off quickly and practically disintegrates from dry rot, crumbling and flaking beneath my hands as the room is filled with sunlight. My nose tickles and I fight the urge to sneeze as more dust plumes around me. I blink against the rays, my eyes watering as they adjust to the onslaught of brightness filling the dark.

_Empty hearts and empty eyes. I promise I won't look anymore. _

What did you see, Daisy?

I gasp when I take in the view from the window. Standing from the ground, I couldn't discern the dips and valleys and the small creek running along the eastern side of the land. As far as my eyes can see, Evanson Ranch sprawls out into lush greens and burnished ochre, twisting paths and strong, regal trees. Unlike Forks where everything is damp and cluttered, this land is sparser, but still just as beautiful in its very own way.

There are two cabins that I never noticed that sit far off from the others, tucked away into a cluster of trees. Looking from ground level, I would have never known they were there unless I took a walk. I automatically think of Clancy when I see them, picturing him sitting on one of the porches in his poncho, drinking his coffee. He's an old man and I know he's quiet and full of sage advice from the few times I've talked to him. Having a calm, private place to go to after the activity of the day seems like it would fit him well.

With the odd sense of calm that has fallen over me, my capacity for fear returns in the absence of my anger. As if coming out of a daze, I realize exactly where I am, how alone I am, and what happened to me the last time I was in this room. My breaths become shaky and the golden bright light of the late afternoon sun does little to calm my growing sense to run. Light does not mean safety in the world where visions and dreams and paranormal things reside.

I read something once that said the more open a person becomes to the possibility of spiritual things; the more likely they are to happen. Or, at the very least, a person becomes more aware of the things that _do_ happen that most never pay attention to. As fearful as my first dreams made me, they also served the purpose of spiking my curiosity. It wasn't until I was aware of what may be happening that the land of dreams suddenly became visions in my waking life. My need to know opened the door and I've failed at keeping these things at bay.

And now I'm in quite the predicament.

My muscles lock up and the urge to run is overwhelming now. I'm too afraid to move; too afraid to make my way to the door for fear that it will slam shut again. I feel exposed in so many ways as I stand near the window and look around the room, my eyes darting around as I'm going to miss something and be caught unaware. It's a jittery feeling, choking – a sick roiling in the pit of my stomach. I felt this way when I was child and my mom left me overnight with my babysitter. I would lay awake on her couch and fight back tears because everything was different, foreign in the dark and all I wanted was my own bed and the low sound of the television coming from my mom's room. It is the feeling of not belonging but being here anyway, unable to move back or ahead until everything is waited out and the sun comes up, bringing with it a new day. I just hope I survive this particular night.

I'm not a child anymore and I don't have a pair of ruby slippers that I can click together and be granted my wish for home. I can't run either because somehow I know that whatever this is that's happening to me will chase me to the ends of the earth if it has to. It is desperate and fights to be heard like a warning. Well, I hear it loud and clear. I just don't know what to do with it. I ran once and everything followed, even Edward, and it didn't do me any good. It's all become worse, escalating and coming to this moment where I can either give over to my fears or try to settle whatever it is that needs to be settled. I'm not going to die because I have too much to live for.

At least that's what I want to believe. It's what I have to tell myself.

"What am I supposed to do?" My voice sounds raw, as if I've been screaming, but that edge is from the well of emotion inside of me. I've been stripped down to a breaking point and madness is not something I want to dwell in.

I stand still, breathing in, breathing out, feeling my lungs work overtime to quell the panic as I try to focus on what needs to be done. I'm not really sure what needs to be done, but I do know that _I'm_ done with sitting back and wondering when everything is going to boil over. I don't want to wait for that inevitable 'too late' moment.

"I don't know what to do," I say, cringing at the brokenness that's threatening to engulf me. I do not wear defeat well, but somehow, everything is getting to that point. Resignation is a weight I'm not strong enough to bear at the moment.

I'm just so tired. I don't want to be angry or brave or scared. I want to wake up tomorrow and be done with all of this and preferably not six feet under. Is this all a warning? A big, flashing 'proceed with caution' sign? A supernatural 'watch your step' placard? The dead should be just that, dead. They got their chance at life and I want my chance to live mine. Cue the bitterness…

"Bella!" I hear the faint sound of Edward's voice and the quiet rattle of his footsteps on the stairs.

"Bella!" he yells again, drawing closer and I can't say a word. He'll be angry that I came in here alone.

I move over to the window again and peer out, goose bumps breaking out across my skin. Clancy is standing in the middle of the back field, his arms held rigidly at his sides. As small as he is in the distance, I can feel his gaze on me as if he knows I shouldn't be in this room yet I came in anyway. If I didn't know any better, I would think he's angry that the newspapers are gone and here I am, looking down at him as if I'm locked in a tower, unable to escape. I really wish I _could_ escape. I wave at him from my perch in the attic and instead of waving back he nods, one quick jerk of his chin, and walks over to cluster of trees where the two cast-off cabins are.

"What are you doing in here?" I turn and see Edward standing in the doorway, timid and wide eyed.

I shrug, not really knowing how to answer that. It seems foolish to be in here after everything that has happened, but I was drawn here as if I'm a compass and this room is magnetic north.

"Bella, I think we should get out of here."

"Then go."

He sighs in frustration and takes a few steps toward me. "I thought maybe you needed a little time to collect yourself after that," he says, waving his hand behind him. What happened to Margie is much more than _that_.

"It was the journal."

"What?"

I lean against the wall for support as the events of the day settle down into my bones. I'm just so tired. "I was mad and I came up here because of my anger. I thought maybe if I tried to talk to, you know, _Daisy_, that maybe she'd talk back." My cheeks burn as I realize how ridiculous that sounds.

"And the journal?"

"It fell off the nightstand and was opened to a drawing of a window. I didn't think much of it, but when I looked up, I saw light coming out from under the door and came in here. I'm sure you can figure out the rest," I say, looking down at the corroded newspaper in a dusty pile on the floor.

Edward walks over and looks out the window, letting out a low whistle. "Nice view."

"I know. I just don't know why it's so important."

"I don't know either. Only thing I know is that Margie owns a ton of land."

I nod, having had the same thought. Edward is holding something in his left hand, a glossy piece of paper that's curling up. "What is that?"

"Oh," he says, as if realizing he came looking for me for a reason. "I was hanging out with Emmett over at the cabin and Otis was going through old pictures to give to his son since he's going to see him soon. Anyway, I found this. I think it's of Daisy."

I grab the picture from his hand and turn it over; uncurling the strange, flimsy paper it was printed on. _July 1st, 1969_ is printed on the bottom, putting this particular photograph at almost a year before the journal entries began. There is a white trellis with people standing beneath it, a group so young, barely older than Edward and I, but would be broken down with age if this picture was captured today. Several faces stare back at me and the only one I recognize is Otis. He was incredibly handsome and looked sharp in a powder blue suit with a ruffled frock. Not exactly the fashions of today, but those were the times. His bride, I'm assuming, is the girl in the light blue dress that matches his suit and does little to hide the baby bump underneath even with all the pleats. A shotgun wedding it must have been. Just like my parents.

But despite all the activity and things to see, there is one face that pulls my gaze more so than any of the others caught on film.

"Oh my God, Edward," I whisper, running my finger along the form of a girl that is radiant with happiness. Of course she was happy. She didn't know her days were limited more so than the average lifespan.

She is also wearing a swath of fabric, simple in its lines, but beautiful all the same. It is a dress that I know all too well.

"Hello, Daisy," I say, knowing deep down in my bones that this is her. I don't have much time to take that in before my field of vision begins to shimmer and shake causing the world as I know it to spin from beneath my feet.

"_One of these days, it's going to be me and you at the altar," a warm voice that I would know anywhere says from behind me. _

"_When you get finished playing hero," I tease, welcoming his arms that wrap around my shoulders as I lean back into his chest._

"_I'll be home before you know it."_

"_You better."_

I can feel my eyes rolling back into my head as more things pass through my mind.

"_When are they going to realize they're in love?" he asks me, grabbing a stuffed mushroom from one of the tables filled with snacks. _

"_When they stop beating around the bush and do something about it."_

"_He's been trying to work up the nerve. Maybe tonight is the night."_

"_I hope so. I'm getting tired of all the late night conversations about what he said and if I think he meant something more." _

"_Did you ever call her about me way back when?"_

_I shake my head and kiss his cheek. "I knew you were a sure thing as soon as I saw you."_

"_That I am."_

The scenery changes as soon as I blink my eyes.

"_White makes me look washed out, doesn't it?"_

_I laugh, looking over at my best friend. "If it's any consolation, I have to wear the same dress. And no, you look really good in it, actually. Margie did a good job making them."_

"_Margie's good with the sewing machine, yes, but I'm not Rita's biggest fan. Why she wanted us as bridesmaids is beyond me."_

"_She hates living on the ranch and we're the only girls her age who pretend she doesn't have a little one growing underneath her bridal gown."_

"_Modern bride my ass, her Catholic background is making her feel guilty. I guarantee she's wearing blue because it's a shotgun wedding."_

"_You're probably right, but I don't see her sticking around here. She hates horses."_

"_Should we tell Otie he's doomed?"_

"_No, we should let people make their own choices."_

_She sighs and rolls her eyes dramatically. "I think I'd want to know the future."_

"_Not me. I like not knowing."_

"_If I get psychic all the sudden, I'm going to tell you everything."_

"_And I will do my best to ignore you."_

I'm sucking in breaths and I can feel a hand on my shoulder, Edward's. I can't see anything beyond the story revealing itself in my head.

_We're sitting in front of the television, the black and white picture fuzzy but the sound is crystal clear. She is nervous and I understand in a way all too well. Not everyone is meant to be a hero and she is of the bunch that spits venom and despises this war. _

"_September 14th."_

"_No!" She screams, making me jump as my heart shatter into a thousand little pieces for her. _

"_No, no, no. This isn't happening," she says, curling into herself as we sit on my couch. _

"_So the luck of the draw isn't on my side, is it?" I look over and see him leaning in the archway, his hat pulled low over his face. If I could see him clearly, I know that I would see fear and resignation. He tried to tell my boy not to sign his life away because that's what best friends do. _

_But that's the difference between her and me. The love of my life went willingly. The love of her life doesn't get a choice. _

The picture falls from my hands and I lean forward, grabbing at the window sill for support as my body becomes not my own, but someone else's.

_The sun is so bright and the autumn air is cooler than it has been, but it's still warm. I'm older today, not so much in age, but in my heart, and the carefree girl I was has passed in light of this past summer. I learned how to be on my own and I learned how to lose - so much. _

_My shoes are uncomfortable and my turtleneck is too tight as I stand here on the tarmac. I don't understand why I thought I should wear it. My sister told me I look sleek and beautiful and I believed her until now. She's afraid for me, I think, but I want to tell her that I won't do it. I'm not like that. If he can be brave, I can be brave too. _

_The people around me break into cheers and I look up, my eyes darting through the crowd. He's coming home. He's safe. He's really here, I know it. He's the only one who can put me back together. The miniature flag I carry in my hand was given to me by a small boy and I notice how its paper thin stars and stripes flutter in the breeze. It's been over a year. I miss him. Where is he?_

_"You're not in white, but I don't care." It's his voice and I can't look. I'm already crying. I have so many things to say, to confess, and I'm so happy he's home now that my whole world is falling apart. I didn't make a home for us because he is my home. How can I build when the foundation isn't there? I feel guilty that I'm everywhere but here. _

_"We'll get through it," he says, and all I can see is the fabric of his suit. He's smart and agile, both in mind and body. He did well over there. I told him in my letters everything that has happened. He understands, even though I don't. _

_"Welcome home," I whisper, meaning it with everything in me, but I can't look him in the eye. Not when I'm buckling under so much weight._

I blink rapidly, the pressure in my head dissipating slowly as I am pulled back to the present. Synapses are firing away in my brain as I try to piece everything together, trying to make sense of the mess. Some of the pieces just don't fit, even though it's obvious I was seeing Daisy's life, not mine.

How connected are we?

"Edward, I – " I start, patting his hand resting on my shoulder. _What the…_

She smells like lilacs in the spring and her face is beautiful even in its pale, translucent form. I want to scream and run away, but my body is frozen to the spot. I never put much thought into the dead, thinking ghost stories to be a product of who can scare who the most, but to put it bluntly – shit just got real.

"Bella," Edward whispers, causing me to flick my eyes in his direction. I can see his trembles and his incredulity as he stares at the girl standing next to me.

"You see what I see," the girl says, bringing up her other hand to point out the window.

Even though I'm shaking like a leaf, I look where she wants me to, all the breath leaving my body. I can see our reflection in the glass, even though mine is not me. A memory stirs in my brain, a memory of the two of us in this very room. It's an old memory, older than my body, but not my soul.

_The two of us are sitting on my bed, laughing over nothing and everything all the same as I read aloud from a heavy, brown book. _

"_This is my favorite part. Listen," I say, giggling through my Moonshine fog. We mixed it with Tang to help mask the flavor and drank more than we should have. _

"_I shall be telling this with a sigh_

_Somewhere ages and ages hence;_

_Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – _

_I took the one less traveled by, _

_And that has made all the difference."_

It's so strange how all the worry I've been feeling has been lifted off my shoulders so quickly. Edward and I have old memories too. We even dreamt about them before. It was never physical traits that I noticed in the dreams, but the emotions. The emotions will always be the same, no matter who we are. The things I've been seeing aren't all mine. In the lucid clarity of this moment, I see two paths: one hers and one mine. I wasn't just seeing my life, but hers as well. She showed me, just like she always told me she would.

I am – _was_ – Daisy, and she was my best friend, the one who stood next to me at Otis' wedding, wearing a white dress just like mine.

"Alice."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**Layer Cake**

"Alice."

As soon as I say her name, Alice smiles and is gone in the blink of an eye. Literally. As nervous as I am, I feel the loss of her presence as if all the air has been sucked out of the room. Quickly, I lean forward and find my reflection in the window pane, thankful and disheartened all the same that I see my brown hair and brown eyes reflecting back at me and not the blonde hair and light eyes of Daisy. It's unnerving to the nth degree to see someone else when you're looking at yourself.

I never put much thought into reincarnation. It's like a fantasy, a way to feel special, and something out of a movie, not real life. The only thing holding me together right now is the proof in what I _do_ know. How could I have these details, these memories for all intents and purposes, if they aren't real? It's hard to wrap my head around the idea that I was someone else back then – Daisy – living and breathing and feeling love, pain, and loss. I had a best friend named Alice and we were caught in the crosshairs of a war, taking each day at a time until tragedy struck a little too close to home. I can't remember the day Alice stuck the knife into her own stomach, not from Daisy's perspective, but Alice showed me what happened to her. It's easy, now that I understand what is happening, to differentiate between the things Alice showed me from her life and what I remember from mine.

It's no longer a puzzle to figure out what's going to happen to future me; I'm now dealing with holes in my memory. A memory I shouldn't have if I was normal.

"I think," Edward starts, his eyes darting around the room. "I think I need some air."

I nod, following him down the stairs and outside. It's hard to be considerate when I have a tempest inside of me filled with horror and things that nightmares are made of. Regardless of all that, I still stand next to Edward on the front porch, even though I'm just as shaken as he appears to be.

"I've never seen a ghost before. Ever."

"I haven't either," I say because it's the only thing I have to offer right now.

"I just don't understand why," he sighs, sitting down on the step, breathing in deep. His skin looks a little ashen and I can't help but wonder if I don't look the same way. After all, it's not a common occurrence for me to come in contact with the dead.

"It wasn't me. It's not me who's going to die. It was her. She did. She's who I saw. Alice." My words are all disjointed and the reality of my situation sounds so strange out in the open.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Reincarnation is a bitch. When you remember, anyway." I add for good measure.

Edward stares off into space, looking pensive. I can sympathize with him because this is all new to me as well. Death is inevitable. That's a fact of life for all carbon based creatures roaming the earth. What _isn't_ inevitable and what not all believe is that we come back again and again, taking on different identities and new sets of obstacles. While I'm comforted to know without any uncertainty that there is, in fact, an afterlife, I still find it difficult to grasp that I've done what most can't do by remembering. How many eighteen year old people can honestly say they were so and so thirty-six years ago? It's enough to boggle the mind and add cause to question my own existence. Without all the proof staring me in the face, I doubt I would have ever given the idea of reincarnation a chance to take hold in my mind. Sure, I'm familiar with the idea, but that's all it ever was before now – an idea.

"Reincarnation?" Edward asks, bringing me out of my own thoughts. "I thought we ruled that out. The past, I mean."

If it was anyone other than Edward, I'd be afraid of coming off as cuckoo explaining this. "You know that dream we shared? The one where we were swimming at night?"

"Yeah."

"That was us. In the past. And I think your dream about us standing under the tree looking at the sunset was a past memory as well." As soon as I say it aloud, I know it's true.

"I've been having that dream for years. Never thought it might be the past."

"I didn't think my dreams and what not were from the past either. I just assumed they were from what has yet to pass."

Edward tugs at his hair and smiles, breaking into a chuckle that's a little on the hysterical side. "I used to think it was Rose I was seeing in that dream."

"Did you?"

"Yup. Blonde hair and that feeling of familiarity. But she was too tall. Didn't fit under my chin like the girl in the dream. But you did – do. I just thought I had the hair color wrong."

"Join the club. I had it _all_ wrong."

"What do you have right?"

I join him on the step, taking his hand in mine. I never thought Edward would become my biggest source of comfort, but he has. "I don't know where to begin."

"Try me."

"Okay," I say, leaning my shoulder into his. "I was seeing memories that belonged both to Alice and me, or Daisy, I should say. Alice's boyfriend called her Clementine and I think he was your friend. Maybe that's why the name Clementine stirred something in your mind, I don't know."

He shakes his head. "I don't know either. Not for sure. Is that all?"

"No, there's more. You – I don't know what your name was… _yet_ – signed up for Vietnam in July of 1969 and Alice's boyfriend was drafted the following December. He went missing over there, but they found his things and enough evidence to show that something bad happened to him. Alice died the day after his memorial service – or at least I'm assuming she did because of the dress she was wearing. You came home in the fall of 1970."

"That's some crazy shit."

"You're telling me."

"How'd you get the timeline?"

"The picture of the wedding and a memory from it. I was teasing you about playing hero. After everything else, I remembered the day you came home and I knew it was the fall and had been thinking it'd been over a year since I'd seen you." It's weird seeing the connections from Edward's life now compared to who he had been in his last life. In his former incarnation, he'd done well faced with a war. I can understand why he feels the urge to join the military now. It makes me wonder what of Daisy I've brought with me into this life. Memories and apparitions of old friends aside.

"What about the dress? How is it still in perfect condition?"

I pull the picture of Otis' wedding from my back pocket, handing it to Edward. "I had the same dress as Alice. They were bridesmaid dresses that Margie made for the wedding." While Alice isn't in this picture, I tap the picture of Daisy, noticing for the first time the man standing behind her. "I'm pretty sure that's you," I add, pointing him out.

Edward leans in for a closer look, his brow furrowed. "I never thought I was looking at who we used to be when I saw this picture. At least I wasn't funny looking."

I smile and run my hand up his back, letting my fingers twirl in the thick, soft hair at the nape of his neck. "I have a feeling you'd be handsome to me no matter what you look like."

"And you'll always be beautiful. I'm sure of it."

He lifts his hand and cups the side of my face, running his thumb across my bottom lip. As my heart swells and butterflies begin fluttering in my stomach, I realize that I'm not worried about when this is going to end. I don't have to worry about who's coming after me and what I'll do to myself should things come to pass. No, I am blissfully unaware of what the future holds and I can't help but think that it's going to be sweet and unencumbered. In fact, I can't wait for it.

"Our future's unwritten."

Edward shakes his head and smiles lightly. "I'm going to kiss you now."

"What are you waiting for?" I ask, staring at his mouth.

He exhales in a quick, heavy burst before his lips are on mine and all I know in this moment is him. I don't like being lost, but Edward is the exception, and being lost in him feels like home. His words mean the world to me, but his actions make me feel like the luckiest girl alive. He creates a place, a shelter, where I don't have to worry about Margie or the meaning behind the things that have been happening to me. He's my rock.

As soon as my lips part and Edward slips his tongue between them, the phone inside the house starts ringing.

"I'm going to get you completely alone one of these days, and nothing is going to stop me," he says, his voice all low and grit.

I shiver at his promise and kiss him again quickly. "It might be my mom."

I begrudgingly leave Edward and go inside, answering the rotary phone sitting on a small table beside the couch. "Evanson residence."

"_Bella, it's me."_

"I had a feeling it would be you. What's up?"

I can hear my mother sigh across the line. _"She's bad, Bella. She has two fractures in her neck and her orbital bone is shattered on top of having a severe concussion. They're getting ready to transport her to Providence over in Waco for surgery. I don't think Phil and I will be making it home tonight. I'm sorry."_

"No, don't apologize. I totally understand. I just want her to be okay." Horses don't mess around when they decide kick something – or _someone_, in this case. I won't be getting near them any time soon.

"_Margie's tough. I think I'm more worried about Phil. They're close and he isn't taking this too well."_

"I'd be freaking out too if it was you."

"_I know. Just let everyone know what's going on. We're getting ready to head out. Will you and Edward be all right alone?"_

"Yeah, we'll hold down the fort. I'll give everyone the update."

"_Thanks. I love you and I'll call you as soon as I can."_

"Love you too, Mom."

I hang up and go back outside, telling Edward about Margie.

"I'm sure she'll be okay. She's tough."

"That's what my mom said."

"And she's right. Want to come to Otis' with me? I told him I'd bring back the picture and you can tell him about Margie."

"Sure."

We walk along the path toward the cabins, a little ways off from the two that I noticed while gazing out the window. I want to go see where Clancy lives and ask him why he was staring at me. Well, maybe not outright like that, but he was just standing there looking up as if he knew I was going to tear off all of that old newspaper. He's never given me any reason to feel apprehensive around him before, and I don't want to avoid him now unjustly. He seems to keep to himself a lot, probably because of his age, but I've never heard anyone else around here talk bad about him. He strikes me as the loner type and if he's been here over forty years, I'm sure everyone else is aware of that too. I just can't shake the feeling that he might know something about Alice.

It's always the quiet ones, right?

"What are you thinking?" Edward asks me, reaching for my hand as we walk down the dirt path.

"I'm thinking that I'm glad that I don't have to worry about my future so much, even though the explanation for everything that has been happening is insane. But…" I start, trailing off to think about how to word what I'm feeling.

"But what?"

"I need to figure out the reason. I can't just let all of this go now that I know everything I've been seeing has already happened. I'm way too connected – in this life, anyway – to not figure out the reason behind everything."

"I kind of want to know too, but what if it's nothing?"

The thought of this all being for naught irritates me. As scary as everything has been, I'll be really pissed off if there is no reason for it. Even if the answer is as simple as Alice wanting someone to know what really happened when she died, I can deal with that. What I can't deal with is never knowing for sure. I _hate_ to wonder. "I can't accept that. There has to be a reason, even if it's small, and I'm going to figure it out."

Edward chuckles, shaking his head at me. "You never stop, do you?"

"Not really."

"Good. I like that about you."

I smile and make our arms swing back and forth with each step we take. It really does feel good to know that I'm just a teenager in the in between of high school and adulthood. Just several short weeks ago I was scared to death about college, but if anything, finding out Alice's and Daisy's stories has put things into perspective for me. I'm so damned lucky to have the opportunity right here and now to do something as simple as take a walk with the boy I love. He isn't off somewhere in a jungle being killed, but here with me, living and breathing. I swear I'll never take him or the small things for granted again. Ever.

"You know what, Cullen?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

He grins all cute and lopsided and I'm glad that I have that effect on him. "I love you, too, Swan."

For once since our little rendezvous started, the good is beginning to outweigh the bad. _Thank God. _

_O-O-O-O-O_

"Hey, Otis?" I ask as he and I sit around the small table in his kitchenette.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"How did Margie's sister die?" Even though my mother told me she died in a car accident, I still want to hear it from someone else. I can see Edward from where he sits on the couch with Emmett, turning toward us to listen.

"It's been years since anyone's mentioned her. Why do you want to know?"

I shrug my shoulders and try to appear as nonchalant as possible. "I was given the dress she wore to your wedding. I'm just curious, is all."

"Oh," he says, and I can't help but notice the sadness that enters his eyes. "She died in a car accident with Junior back in '70. It was a shock to everyone."

"Junior?" I inquire, my heart skipping a beat at the thought of learning another name.

He nods. "Her fiancé. He made it out of Vietnam alive and they both died on the drive back home from the airport."

"That is so sad." And it is. Finally being in the homestretch, only to die before we got there. The weirdest part, though, is knowing that Daisy and Junior were Edward and I from another life.

"Yes, it was. It's part of the reason why my wife took off. She didn't want to be next."

"What do you mean?"

"1970 was a bad year around here. We had a drought, crops failin', one of the mares died in birth. Not to mention the war and so many people dyin'. Everything went to hell after Pop Evanson died in '68. If it wasn't for Margie and Philip Senior, I doubt this place would still be around."

Knowing what I know about the events that went down between Alice and Daisy is one thing, but to hear about how things affected everyone else back then makes my heart hurt. "I'm sorry, Otis. I mean, who all died? Aside from Daisy and Junior."

"Well, it started with Pop Evanson. He was a mean son of a bitch, but he knew how to run a business. Daisy and Junior, of course. And old man Clancy."

My blood runs cold and my breath stops. "Clancy?"

"Yep. He died the day after Daisy and Junior. It was bad. I think if Margie hadn't had little Phil to care for that she would have gone crazy. She was real close with her sister and Clancy."

I've seen Clancy. I've talked to Clancy. He smells like coffee and wears a Stetson. "I don't – who was Clancy?"

Otis gives me a strange look and I can see Edward staring at me from my peripheral. I doubt I look fine because I'm _so _not fine right now. "Clancy was a friend of Pop Evanson. I guess they knew each other from back in Tennessee. Clancy worked in the coal mines and got that black lung and came out here for the weather."

"Did he drink coffee?"

Apparently Otis doesn't think my question is weird as he just laughs. "That he did. Man, I remember that tar he used to drink. Apparently the caffeine helps keep the lungs open. I don't know how it works, but he always had a thermos of that stuff close by. Couldn't afford none of the other treatments. Doubt he believed in 'em, anyway."

"Are they buried close by?" I ask. My insides are shaking and I have to see this all for myself. Clancy was here. He talked to me. He was looking at me. I can't fathom any of this.

"Over in West End Cemetery. About a mile and a half, two miles down the road."

I nod and stand up, feeling the nausea threatening to make me lose the McDonald's I ate earlier. "Thanks, Otis. I'll let you know about Margie as soon as I hear something more."

I don't listen for him to respond as I walk outside, inhaling as deeply as I can. This is just way too much. I try to think of anyone talking about Clancy, but I've never heard a word about him from anyone else around here. Every time I ever talked to him, I was alone with no witnesses.

Vertigo rushes over me and I'm kneeling on the ground, trying to stop shaking, when I feel a hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay, Bella?"

I look up at Edward and shake my head. "No, I'm not."

"What's wrong?"

"Clancy. I've _seen_ Clancy. I've _talked_ to Clancy," I say through clenched teeth, hoping that if I keep reiterating these facts that I'll be able to stomach them. "It's why I asked about the coffee because that's what he smells like."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I didn't make that up." Now I _have_ to know the reason behind everything. It's too intricate of a story to just let be. And yes, I _did_ notice how Otis didn't mention Alice or her boyfriend. Apparently that's something that needs to be forgotten. At least in Otis' eyes.

"Shit, Bella. I don't know what to do anymore."

"There's nothing we _can_ do right now. We don't know enough to figure out the damned reason."

Edward sighs and stands up straight, putting his hands in his pockets. He has that look I've only seen him have a few times in the years I've known him. It's the look of him trying to figure out how to make everything right and he's pissed off about it. "Maybe we could call someone who knows how to deal with this kind of thing."

"Do we really have the cash for something like that? And what about us keeping it on the down low?"

"Work with me here, Bella. I don't know what else to do. It's like a fucking graveyard around here, but the dead don't sleep."

The proverbial 'light bulb' goes off inside my head as soon as he says graveyard. "Let's go to the cemetery."

"Right now?"

"Yeah. Maybe the names and dates will trigger something."

Edward looks at the sky and back down at me. "It's almost dark."

"And we have flashlights. After everything I've been through, I don't think headstones are going to do much for me in the fear department."

Edward stares at me for a moment, contemplating what I've laid out on the table. "We're taking McCarty with us. And you are _not_ allowed to wander off without one of us with you."

"Are you telling me what to do?"

He frowns, shaking his head. "I'm just trying to keep you safe, Bella. That's all I care about. Nothing else matters when it comes to you." His words are aggressive and laced with finality. I understand that need to protect what's important.

"Let's do this then," I say, resigned to the fact that nothing will ever be the same.

O-O-O-O-O

"Why couldn't we have done this in the morning?" Emmett asks, clicking his flashlight on and off as we walk along the road.

"Stop being such a pussy, McCarty."

"Fuck you, Cullen. You take me out of the comfort of my mama's house, make me work in a damn barn, and now I'm getting ready to walk around in a creepy ass cemetery after dark. I would say I've been pretty tolerant up until now."

I roll my eyes and let the boys resume their bantering. It's strange to actively pursue something that I wanted to avoid up until today. I've been scared one too many times and if I know anything about ghosts, it's that they only stick around when they either don't know they're dead, or they have unfinished business. Alice knows she's dead because she showed me her death, so I have a feeling that I'm about to walk into something bigger than I may be able to handle. Business that wouldn't be mine if I didn't have the memory I do.

I keep thinking about Alice. I mean, how could I not? Her death was not peaceful. The man didn't kill her though. He may have tried to make her do something against her will, but he didn't murder her. She killed herself before he got the chance to do anything. What if the guy was Clancy? It doesn't make sense though. I'm pretty sure the guy was younger, and if Clancy's been dead since 1970, it definitely doesn't make sense. He was old then and he'd be around a hundred now if he was still alive. Hell, he'd probably still be dead today no matter what.

Even with a couple hours to stew over the fact that Clancy is no longer among the living doesn't help the freakishness of the situation. Me being able to communicate with dead people isn't something I want to add to my repertoire. I doubt it would bode well if I put that down as a special skill on job applications.

"Why couldn't we have just driven here?" Emmett whines.

"It's not that far of a walk," Edward answers, lacing his fingers with mine.

"Yeah, but what if something freaky happens? There's no quick getaway."

"Em, seriously? Nothing's going to happen."

"Why are we coming here then?" Emmett asks with frustration coloring his tone. "It's because of the music box in the demon house isn't it?" He adds softly.

Edward just shrugs and I stare straight ahead. It's not that I don't trust Emmett, it's just that I don't know how to talk about all this stuff. _Well, Emmett, Edward and I are from these parts, once removed. _

"We're on a ghost hunt aren't we?" He presses.

"Sure," I say, not knowing if that's the truth or a lie. I have no idea what we might find aside from headstones.

"First sign of a ghost, I'm bailing."

Neither Edward nor I say anything as we continue walking, coming up along the gated cemetery. Everything seems to grow quieter as we draw nearer the gate that sways in the breeze with a metallic creak.

Emmett clicks on his flashlight and holds it high above his head so that the light disperses in a wide arc. "Not only are we going to be in a cemetery, but it's a fenced in cemetery."

"Well said, Captain Obvious," Edward says sarcastically, stopping in front of the gate. "You ready for this?" He asks, looking down at me.

"As I'll ever be."

With a nod, Edward reaches out and pushes open the gate, leading us into the land of the dead. Hopefully they feel like talking tonight.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

**Keeper of the Gates**

The humidity has created a haze that hangs low to the ground, warping each headstone, each bench, each tree into looming shadows and tricking the eye. As brave as I want to believe I am, it still doesn't take away my overactive imagination. Everything is out to get me, and while I sound like a paranoid schizophrenic, I know that I need to cut myself some slack. Things _have_ been out to get me lately. Well, maybe not me, but at the very least, to get my attention. I know now that nightmares aren't always a product of the mind because I'm living one right now. Somewhere along the lines, me meddling with the dead has become my reality. All I wanted was to fall in love and go to college even though it scared me to consider taking those vast leaps. Now it all sounds like a cake walk compared to everything else.

"This is a big ass cemetery," Emmett comments with a low whistle.

"We're not going to find anything tonight if we don't split up. How about Bella and I check the eastern side and you check the western side?" Edward asks, looking at Emmett pointedly.

Emmett's shaking his head and putting up his hands in surrender. "Not going to happen. At all. That's like – that's just dumb, Cullen."

"Do you have a better plan?"

Emmett snorts. "I can walk my ass right back out that gate and stay in the streetlights. It's safe there, don't you know?"

"Fine, I'll go to the western side alone, but you're staying with Bella."

I swallow, trying to calm my nerves, and watch Edward intently to see if this is all some act of false bravado. He looks intense and determined in a way that I've never seen before. Dead or not, I wouldn't want to cross his path right now.

"Are you sure about this?" I ask, staring into his eyes and silently willing him to be honest with me.

"I'm sure about you and I'm sure about wanting all of this shit to go away, so, yes," he says, kissing me quickly. "Call my cell if you find something and vice versa."

I nod, watching him sprint across the path toward a cluster of headstones, looking for Daisy Evanson. It's strange, knowing that when we find the grave, it will be my old body in the casket six feet under our feet. I think I might want to be cremated after the life I'm living now.

"You ready to go tombstone hunting?"

I look toward Emmett and grin, wondering how everything that has happened these past couple months has led up to this point. We have the border of the puzzle complete and most of it filled in, but there's still a few pieces missing from the middle. The heart of the matter is what we need to figure out. I feel kind of bad that Emmett doesn't know anything about those other pieces, but it's better that way. The less people involved in this fuckery, the better. It's bad enough that Edward and I have him out in the middle of a cemetery in Texas. I'm sure he was thinking 'road trip' and not having to play ghost hunter and mystery solver as well.

The farther Emmett and I walk into the cemetery, the more sounds start to become clearer. Crickets and rustling leaves, our footsteps, the trickle of a nearby creek – they all create a cacophony of sounds that incite fear in those idiotic enough to step right into a world of things that go bump in the night. Visually, it's like a movie set. At least, that's what I keep telling myself as my senses go on high alert. There aren't really bodies beneath the ground of people who came and went before us. The crosses, plaques, and monuments aren't immortal shrines to mark the final resting places of people who used to mean something to those still living.

Who am I kidding? I'm the one who wanted to come here.

Bailey, Connor, Richards, Martin, Sawyer – each surname belonged to someone. The headstones are like the last period at the end of a story, marking the final sentence of each life. I don't know the stories, but I do know that some are 87 year epics and others are 5 year novellas. Mortal time is different for everyone and tragedies exist everywhere. I hate the dates, seeing as there are children buried here. I don't want to think about that.

I lost count of the headstones around sixty and as Emmett and I look at the final row on this side of the cemetery, I feel a little disappointed.

"Well, Swan, I think we chose the wrong side."

"Yeah, we should call Edward and see if he's found anything."

I'm looking at the flowers carved into the granite monument for Mable Briggs when Emmett takes his phone away from his ear. "He's not picking up."

"Try again," I say, my anxiety level rising exponentially.

"No dice."

I start walking quickly, breaking into a sprint, yelling for Edward as Emmett and I make our way to the other side, crossing a small foot bridge that passes over a creek.

"I shouldn't have let him go alone." I don't see Edward anywhere and I scream for him again, my heart flying in my chest.

"Cullen! If you're fucking with us, it's not cool!" Emmett looks almost as worried as I am.

Deep into the cemetery where the trees thicken and no moonlight reaches lies a fenced in area with its own gate. That gate is open and I just know that Edward's in there, hopefully just fine. Maybe his cell phone doesn't have service. The reception _is_ kind of spotty around here.

The fog coming off the creek is dense and low to the ground, and as I walk through it, it swirls and dances as if angered by my disruption. Terrified and worried, I push forward, comforted minutely by the knowledge that Emmett is right at my heels and that I'm not alone. I should have insisted we all stick together. Even if it took us all night, it would have been worth it to be spared the dread I'm feeling right now.

"Edward!" I call out again, the iron gate swinging open with a kick.

It's the family plot. Evanson, Evanson, Evanson, Dwyer…

"Cullen!" the horror in Emmett's voice sends a chill up my spine. "God, are you okay? Be okay. We shouldn't have come here. I had a bad feeling about this," Emmett rambles, kneeling beside Edward's prone body.

My whole world goes numb and all I can hear is something close to static as I fall to my knees, placing my hands on Edward's chest. I think I say his name over and over, but I'm not sure as I lean in close, overwhelmed by the sight of his blood. There's a gash on his forehead and from the blood on the headstone next to him and the unevenness of the ground, I think he may have tripped. I refuse to let myself believe that Edward isn't okay. It's impossible, inconceivable to entertain the notion that he's not fine. I'm all cold and clinical logic until I allow myself to feel relief once I realize that he's still breathing.

"Wake up," I whisper low into his ear, taking off my button down that I wore over my t-shirt and press it to his wound. I can see now that it's a small cut, but I learned in first aid that head wounds bleed something fierce. I don't think he needs stitches, but he may end up with a scar just above his eyebrow. I'm more worried about the inside, like his brain, and how hard the hit was. He's out cold.

"Edward," I try again, running my index finger just below his ear in light circles, knowing he's ticklish there.

The tightness in my chest releases and tears spring to my eyes when Edward groans, swatting my hair away from his face.

"Fuck," he groans, holding my shirt tighter to his head.

"You scared the shit out of us," Emmett declares, sitting with his back against the same headstone that Edward was injured by.

Edward blinks a few times against the glare of my flashlight as I shine it into his eyes, making sure his pupils respond. I'm not a doctor or a paramedic, but I'm pretty sure wonky pupils are a sign of brain trauma which Edward doesn't seem to have.

"What happened?" I whisper, running my thumb along the side of his neck, thankful to feel his pulse.

"The marbles," he says in a voice so low I can barely hear him.

"What?"

"The marbles. They were mine. Clancy taught me how to play and I gave him my favorite shooter before I left so he'd watch over you while I was gone. I told him it was collateral and I'd be back for it."

Understanding hits me like a ton of bricks. Edward remembered something too. "Oh my god."

"What are you two talking about?"

Both Edward and I ignore Emmett's question for the time being as Edward sits up and continues explaining. "It's the same shooter. Not from the room, but from the garage. The one sitting on my dresser back in Forks. I got it back."

"How is that even possible?"

Edward doesn't say a word, but points at Emmett instead.

"What? You two are freaking me out." Emmett's eyes are wide and he looks much younger than he is from fear.

"Not you, the headstone," Edward supplies, motioning for Emmett to move.

Emmett looks over his shoulder and goes completely pale. "What do you – Oh my fucking – holy shit!" Yeah, Emmett's vocabulary is shortened to curse words when he's scared.

In all honesty, I'm a little squicked out too as I read the big block letters carved in stone.

_**McCarty**_

_**Clarence E. **_

_**December 29**__**th**__**, 1901 – October 16**__**th**__**, 1970**_

"Do you know of him?" I ask Emmett.

He nods, looking like he's about to throw up. "My dad has a bible that his dad gave him. It has the names of several generations of McCartys written in the back of it and this is one of them. E for Emmett. Mom and Dad wanted me to have a family name."

It all gives way to logic. Either someone from Clancy's family came here for the funeral and took his things, or Margie packed them up and shipped them back to his family in Tennessee. I totally forgot that Emmett was born there even though he grew up in Forks. Just how connected is everything?

"You two are going to tell me everything. I'm not even kidding," Emmett says sternly, leveling us both with a stare.

"Bella found Margie's sister's diary and wanted to find out what happened back then."

"You know she died in a car accident. Did you forget I was there when Otis told Bella about it? Try again, Cullen."

Edward and I share a look, silently communicating on whether or not to clue Emmett in. I know from past experiences that I can trust Emmett to keep things to himself, but I don't want to be seen differently. Edward understands what's happening in a way that Emmett doesn't because he's experiencing it too. It's our story, our past, our friends – how much more tangled can this possibly get?

"I saw a ghost," I say slowly, turning my gaze from Edward to Emmett. "When I ran into the stables freaking out about the music box. It's Daisy's friend Alice. I'm just trying to figure out what happened because there's something going on with all that. It's connected to Clancy, I think. Who was he to you?"

"My great uncle. It never even occurred to me that he was who Otis was talking about. I've only ever heard of him as Clarence. I don't know anything about him and, obviously, I never met him. Just another name in the long line of McCartys."

"Yeah, well, I just wanted to come here and get dates. Maybe see if the library has a microfiche machine. I just want to figure it out, you know?"

Emmett stands, looking around at the headstones as if he's piecing things together, contemplating what he should do with the information I supplied him with. "The other night, I was walking around outside trying to find a spot where I had good cell service to call Rose. It was almost dark and I went behind the house. I thought I saw a girl in the distance standing under a tree, but I blinked and she was gone. Maybe I really _did_ see what I thought I did."

"Was she in a white dress?" I ask, perking up.

"How did you know?"

"Because it was Alice," Edward says, staring at his friend with a look of resignation. "Why the hell is she messing with us? Why hasn't Margie seen her or Otis even?"

"Maybe they have and they just don't talk about it. Most people don't want to admit it when they see ghosts." It makes sense to me.

"Yeah, okay, but what about seeing what happened to her like you have? I'd like to think if they saw what you have that they wouldn't stay quiet about it. They knew these people."

"Edward, if I knew why, we probably wouldn't be in the middle of a cemetery right now. Maybe it's the Daisy and Junior thing. I don't know."

"Peter Masen," Edward says, pointing to a double headstone to my left.

I turn and look, sucking in a breath. Peter Daniel Masen and Charlotte Daisy Evanson both born in August of 1949 on different days, but both died October 15th, 1970. My mind brings up the image of Daisy's drawing hanging in Margie's kitchen and what I thought was an intricate crescent shape between her initials to make her signature look nice. It was a C.

"Twenty-one years," I whisper, staving off the tears that threaten to fall as unbearable sadness weighs me down.

"It was probably a triple funeral," Edward says, placing his hand on my shoulder. "Deaths come in threes, right?"

I shrug, not knowing what to say. I never expected to feel the loss the way I am. I didn't think I was this emotionally tied to the situation, but seeing the proof carved in marble makes my chest ache. I loved Edward before now. I lost him and he lost me. Our last year together was spent apart because of a war raging in a jungle somewhere across the Pacific. So much time was lost and we never got to make up for it because we never made it home. The enemy, the bombs, the bullets – out of everything that could have killed him over there, Edward's life was spared and he made it back to America in one piece only to lose his life in a car. At least he didn't die alone.

"I want to go back to the house," I choke out, my throat tight with too many emotions I hadn't expected to feel.

"Yeah, I think that's best," Emmett says softly, foregoing his usual sarcasm for compassion. I cried in front of him once last year when Jake left for college and all he did was hug me and tell me he never wanted to see me cry again. Apparently he meant it.

I didn't remember anything like I was hoping to, but Edward did. Every detail is right there, floating just out of reach, and I don't know if I'm up for any more of it. As I stand up and grab my flashlight, I feel the weariness of barely sleeping and the events of the day wash over me. I just want this to be over and I don't have a lot of time. Even though I know it isn't me who dies, I still have obligations I have to fill in the very near future. I can't exactly spend my weekends in Texas when I'll be going to school full time back in Washington. It'd be nice to find a job too. I want to know what it's like to live in a crappy apartment and eat Ramen noodles for dinner because I can't afford anything else. With Edward, of course. And I really don't want to be plagued with dreams and events that keep me bound to a life I've already lived.

I want to live the life I'm in now. There isn't enough room for both.

"We should have driven," I yawn, stretching out my back and feeling it pop. When I swing my flashlight back down, the light glints off something from the far side of the plot and catches my eye. "Hold on."

I walk toward the weeping willow, trying not to notice the spaces left, waiting for bodies to fill them. Margie, Phil, my mom if she stays with – no, that's way too morbid of a thought, even for me. I crouch to keep my hair from snagging in the branches and keep my flashlight trained ahead, gasping when I see the small, insignificant slab tucked away from the rest of the family as if it's a smudge on a good name that needs to be forgotten.

_**Mary Alice Brandon**_

_**October 15**__**th**__**, 1949 – June 19**__**th**__**, 1970**_

I found her final resting place, at least, for her body. I know for a fact that her spirit isn't quite so settled. I lift my eyes from her headstone, only to see through Daisy's eyes.

"_You know she didn't have any family, Margie!" I scream, anguished and breaking apart. I'm just as angry over what Alice did to herself as Margie is, but I'll be damned if she doesn't have a proper burial. _

"_She's not an Evanson."_

"_How can you be so cold? You know just as much as I do that these people are our family. She was my best friend. Daddy left me half of everything, right down the middle, including the plots. I know I let you take care of everything, but if you don't stop this nonsense I'll call the damned lawyer myself."_

"_You have some nerve threatening me like that," Margie yells back, her blonde hair and smooth face so much like mine – beautiful and contorted with rage. _

"_You didn't hesitate letting _him_ be buried there. His death was honorable, right? She deserves to be buried next to him just like we buried Daddy next to Mother. Junior's over there in Vietnam and I haven't gotten a letter in over two months. Now my best friend's dead. Do _not_ test me right now, Margie, because the way I see it, I've got nothing to lose. Alice is going to be buried in the family plot. You're my sister and I love you, but this argument needs to end now because I'm not going to give in on this one."_

I'm breathing heavily, trying to let go of the anger and pain I experienced as Daisy. I knew it. People weren't as open with suicide back then as they are now. I know Margie is kind of religious, but I understand Daisy. Well, me, I understand me, because I would have argued the same argument regardless. Alice was my friend, suicide or not. If Lauren died naturally or killed herself, I'd want her to have a proper funeral either way.

"What's going on, Bella?" Edward asks before muttering something under his breath.

"I just – " I look to my right and get chills so strong, I'm rendered speechless. On an empty concrete slab stands a mason jar filled with daisies, way too similar to the daisies in Forks.

"Looks like someone visits here," Emmett says, crouching down to touch the petals.

"But who?" I ask aloud, trying to put the pieces together.

"_I'm Alice from Mississippi. What's your name?"_

_I stare at the tiny girl sitting at the desk beside mine. I've never been in third grade before and I've never really had a friend other than Junior. He pretends he doesn't like me when he's with other boys though, so maybe I should give Alice from Mississippi a chance._

"_I'm Daisy Evanson from Texas," I say small but proud, smiling despite my missing front tooth._

_Alice from Mississippi's eyes widen and she looks so excited like she got everything she wanted for her birthday. "We're going to be best friends."_

"_How come?"_

"_Because daisies have always been my very favorite flowers and you're Daisy, so you'll be my very favorite friend."_

"_Well, I guess that makes sense."_

"_Of course it does, silly. I've got the gift," she says, tapping her forehead. _

"_What gift?"_

_She rolls her eyes and pats my arm. "I can tell the future. I must have always liked daisies because I knew I would meet you some day."_

"_Oh. Okay." I think. _

Alice didn't know me, she just knew she liked daisies and I was a Daisy. I don't think she was really psychic, but believing is half the battle, right? I smile, even though I want to cry, because I want Alice to be in my life now. Not her ghost, but her as a person. For some reason, she's trapped and not moving on in the way Edward and I did.

I lean forward on my hands and knees, closing my eyes to smell the daisies, but all I can smell are lilacs. I know what's coming, but it still unnerves me, and if the shriek from Emmett is any indication, I would say that Alice has shown up.

She's staring at me eye to eye and the light from our flashlights grows dull. She's not a strong apparition the way Clancy is, but translucent and constantly moving like the fog around us. I can see more of her as she stands in front of me and my own stomach twists when I see the shadowy stain on the fabric covering her torso. She carries the mark of her death even _in_ death. It's not fair.

"You have to show me if you need my help," I whisper, trying to ignore Emmett's pleads to get the hell out of here.

She nods and points to the creek that runs alongside the fence, appearing to float on the fog as she heads toward it. Heck, she probably is floating. As nervous as I am, I have a pretty good feeling that I'm supposed to follow her, even though the trees are thick and our light sources are failing.

"Come on," I say, stepping over the fencing around the plot, thankful it's low enough to do so.

"Are you kidding me!"

"If you don't come with me I'm going alone. And if I die you'll feel guilty," I argue, knowing that I'm using Emmett's nature against him.

"That's wrong on so many levels. Why am I the only one with any sense around here?" Emmett asks, wiping his palms against his jeans. He doesn't have as much practice with this as Edward and I do.

"Well," Edward says, following me over the fence. "You know the way back. Streetlights are safe, don't you know?"

"Fine," Emmett relents, coming after us. "I'm only doing this as penance for Rose."

"Sure you are," Edward quips, clicking his light off. "We should save what battery life we have left."

"I so don't feel good about this."

"Emmett," I start, sliding a little on the muddy creek bank. "Just think of it as us being in a movie. Like The Goonies. I mean, we're from Washington, which is close enough to Oregon, and we're following the map of a dead person to get to the treasure. We just don't have psychopaths running after us."

"Yeah, but there were obstacles and booby traps."

I roll my eyes and continue following the creek, no longer able to see Alice, but I can smell the flowery scent that she has, similar to the way Clancy carries the scent of freshly brewed coffee. I've read about that, ghosts leaving behind scents and weird stuff like pennies to let the living know they were around. I don't like that constant fear has become my natural state of being as of late, but I have to believe that everything will be over soon. I asked Alice to show me and I'm letting myself trust that she will.

I'm not going to lie – it's creepy as all hell chasing a ghost through a thicket of trees so dense it's near black. Everything comes alive at night, either from imagination or the cloak of darkness, I can't tell which. It's just us three and a barely there Alice amidst the sound of insects and rushing water. I just hope we don't run into any snakes. I think they burrow at night because it cools off, but I can't be sure. I'd take a ghost over something with venomous fangs any day. At least ghosts can't hurt me, or so I've read.

"There's a clearing up ahead," Edward breaks the silence, clicking his light back on. A few yards ahead of us, the trees give way to a valley and the creek spills into a little pond of sorts. I know this place.

"Is this the same place?" Edward asks as we get close enough to really see it.

"Yep," I reply, remembering what he and I did the last time we went swimming here thirty some odd years ago.

"I'm just glad we're out of the cemetery," Emmett says, hovering close to Edward.

"McCarty, if you want to feel me up, all you have to do is ask," Edward grins, blowing air kisses at him.

"Stop it, you two," I scold, not knowing where to go next. I have nothing to follow.

"What is that?" Emmett asks, pointing off into the far distance.

A yellow light burns bright in the dark and I think I know exactly where it's coming from. "That's the light in Daisy's room. We're back on Evanson property."

Edward shakes his head and grabs my hand. "Who knew there was a shortcut to the cemetery?"

"I need to know who left the flowers."

"I want to go back to Forks. I experienced Texas and now I'm done." _I agree, Emmett. I want rain and green and my life before this. I just have to help Alice first. _

I look at the pond and take in the view, my eyes landing on a weird, deformed looking tree. I squeeze Edward's hand and hold my breath as I realize what I'm seeing. "She died right there."

"What?" Edward asks, taking a look for himself.

"That's where it happened. She was so damned close and no one heard or saw anything." I'm angered by this. Daisy – me – I was so close and didn't see a thing. But someone else was closer.

"Clancy." I jerk my hand away from Edward's and start walking, knowing that I'll find the cabins nestled in the trees. Clancy may be dead, but he was talking to me up until today. He better have some kind of explanation.

As I near the cabins, I see Alice, pointing in the direction of the one worse for wear. It's the cabin that looks as if it hasn't been lived in or cared for in way too long. Did Clancy do this to her? It didn't seem so, but I've been wrong about a lot of things recently.

"Was it him, Alice?" I ask in a voice laced with the tenor of anger.

Before she can respond in any way, the sound of twigs snapping causes her to dissipate and I'm left standing near the porch of Clancy's cabin. Emmett and Edward are right behind me and as the sounds of people talking get closer, I motion for them to turn off the flashlights and stay quiet.

"You need to stop this shit," I can hear Otis say. "I can't keep cleanin' up your messes. I'm gettin' too old and so are you."

"It's just a little drink," says a voice all slurred and thick.

"Do you want to die? Is that what it is?"

"I've been dying since I came back from the dead," the second voice answers, bitter and sad.

"Goddamn it! Was she really worth all this?"

"Fuck you!" The voice is angry now.

I peek around the corner and see Otis wrestling with a very drunk guy on the porch of the cabin next to Clancy's. Who?

"Fine. You can wallow in your own misery. She's dead and you've wasted your life. You know what the doc said and that was six months ago. You're as good as dead anyhow. Just don't ask me to help you out anymore."

I watch with rapt attention as Otis storms off, leaving the guy to vomit over the porch rail. When he lifts his head and takes off his hat, I realize who it is.

Whitey.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, puzzle pieces shift and form a thought and then a face, much younger than the one I see now. _Whitey, Whitey, Whitey…_ Whitey for Whitlock. Jasper Whitlock.

Jasper and Alice.

Jasper really did come back from the dead. He just didn't come back in time to save Alice.


	17. Chapter 17

**Whitey is pronounced White-E, not witty. **

**Chapter 17:**

**Little Girl Blue**

What did I do after finding out about Jasper?

I slept. For a good five hours, I burrowed blissfully into nothingness, nestled in the cradle of Edward's arms. I had no dreams and slept like the dead, pun intended, of course. We were finally alone with no one to worry about hearing us or walking in on us, and neither of us could do anything more than take off our shoes and crawl into bed. He did manage to clean the dried blood from his face, though, which revealed a slight bruise and cut that isn't as bad as I initially thought.

I woke up wired and unable to get back to sleep, so I took a quick shower and made a pot of coffee in an attempt to inject a little normal into my day. Just yesterday morning, I wouldn't have dreamed to leave Edward upstairs alone, but now that he and I know who it is behind the anomalies, they're not that scary. At least, not to me they aren't.

Yesterday was so damned crazy and I have a feeling that today won't be much different. I'm just glad I got a chance to recover some from the adrenaline and fear that kept me going long after sleep was needed. I may have youth on my side, but I can only take so much before I start to break down. Margie, figuring out there was two dresses, Alice, finding out about Clancy, the cemetery, Jasper… that's a ton of silt to wade through.

I walk out into the muted sunlight of early morning, staring off into the distance toward the two cabins. I can't see them from here standing at ground level, but I know they're there and underneath the roof of one of them lies a man sleeping off a night of liquor. It's strange, having the urge to go mother him, making sure that he has aspirin and plenty of water to help ease his inevitable headache and sour stomach. I don't know how much of this protectiveness I feel is from my life as Daisy or if it's just my nature to care for people in need. I've always been saddened by those who have had it rough, and while drinking hard liquor is a personal choice, I can't help but feel compassion for the reasons behind Jasper wanting that oblivion.

Could I wake each day wanting to be with Edward and loving him with everything in me, only to be given the cold, desolate truth that I'd never touch him again? I'm sure I could, maybe even love another, but what's the point when I know that anything after Edward would be second rate and second best? Why bother when it isn't as good as I know it could be?

Those kinds of thoughts aren't something I should be contemplating this early in the morning. I won't live without Edward. He's here and he's alive. I got to sleep in his arms, but Jasper had nothing more than an empty bed to go home to and liquor bottles to drown himself in. Perhaps it's easier to wake up in the morning and go to bed at night in a daze, not having to feel a thing because the fog from alcohol obscures the emptiness. I've been drunk, and I've felt empty. When I came down here without Edward, I was hollow. Hollow hurts.

There's something to be said about seeing a man cry. I know they do it sometimes. They're human, just like females, but men are hardwired to not show the same level of vulnerability that girls don't really seem to mind showing. After Otis left him there throwing up and heaving, Jasper was nothing more than a broken man that thought he was alone. Not just physically alone, but emotionally alone as well. Hearing the catch in his throat and seeing his shoulders curl in as he fought to keep in tears wasn't easy to witness. I had to look away because something in me felt guilty, not only for looking in on something so personal, but for not knowing how to ease his misery. At some point in time, I grieved Alice. It's a phantom ache, but he and I used to share a very similar pain and maybe that's what draws me to him. Jasper knew me and he loved my best friend even more than I did.

It isn't until I'm near them that I realize I've been walking toward the cabins the whole time I've been lost in my head. One looks completely abandoned and lifeless, and the other looks like it's almost there, more than halfway to the grave. I wonder why Jasper stayed here when all it would do is remind him of everything he lost. He can't not wake up every morning, thinking about who should be here with him. Where would we be had things panned out differently? Would Edward and I have grandkids and our own home somewhere else if we hadn't died back then? We'd both be getting ready to turn fifty seven next month if we were still Daisy and Junior. Instead, I'm we're still teenagers, trying to figure out who we are and who we were and how this is all relevant in the grand scheme of things.

I shake my head and sigh, because really, I don't know what else to do. I can get angry and make demands, but I don't have the energy for that at the moment. Instead, I walk toward the unloved cabin and step onto the porch, the wood soft and decaying beneath my feet. I watch my step just to be safe and open the rough hewn screen door, the rusty springs groaning in protest. Should I knock? Alice wanted me to come here last night, but things took a different turn than even she was expecting considering the way she fled – or dispersed, I should say – when Jasper and Otis showed up. That's another thing I don't understand, why she would show herself to Edward and I, even Emmett, but not Jasper. You'd think if she had the ability to show herself that he'd be the one she went to most often. I can't really make sense of that, but logic doesn't seem to have much of a foothold in my life anymore.

The front door creaks something fierce as I push it open, the cabin seeming to sigh in relief that someone has opened it up to the world. The smell is musty and old, like dust and soft wood with a touch of mildew. The walls that were once whitewashed are now grey and chipping, showing signs of water damage near the back. Each graying detail is like something one would find in a ghost town, forsaken and desolate, the bones of something that once was.

This cabin is so much smaller than the others found closer to the main house, just one room and primitive in its design. The bare minimum of what one would need for shelter. It has been stripped down, the signs of plumbing apparent, but no longer present. I let myself imagine thieves coming here, picking out anything of possible value, only to leave behind the carcass of a place where a man once lived.

A lone chair sits in the middle of the room and I eye it warily, wondering if it could hold even the slight weight of a child. It's weird how everything was taken but this chair, wood and spindles with no arms. It looks like it was possibly part of a set that sat around a table, but I don't know because I have no memory of this place when it was alive.

The glass of the back window is covered in grime collected over the years. Much like the newspaper in Daisy's room, it chokes out most of the light trying to find its way in. I'm not afraid, though, because it's becoming more and more evident that I'm just the middleman, connecting the dots for everyone else.

I don't know how to get Clancy's attention. This time yesterday, I probably would have just asked one of the other ranch hands where he was if I needed to talk to him. I wonder how that would have turned out?

I just start talking instead. "Clancy, I know you're dead. I'm a little sore at you for that, not telling me and all. I could have ended up at a freaking funny farm had I started talking to someone about you."

God, I seriously feel dumb right now, walking around in an empty cabin trying to 'communicate'.

"Look, I don't have anything fancy like candles or a Ouija board or whatever, so if you could give me a sign, I'd appreciate it. Oh, and another bone I have to pick with you," I start, getting into the swing of things. "You could have told me you were related to Emmett, too. Did you know about that? I don't know what kind of connections one has after they die, but they seem to be omnipotent."

I hear a click and the hollow roll of marbles being shot across the floor. It's a sound I know well and will forever associate with one of the most intensely frightening moments of my life. The smell of coffee is strong and I turn to see Clancy sitting in the chair, facing me.

"I was wonderin' when you'd find out."

I don't understand why his apparition is so much stronger than Alice's, but he looks so real. Real enough to fool me. "Alice. Did you do something to her?" I ask right off the bat, not wanting to dilly dally with information. I'm tired of waiting around for it.

"No, I did not. Wouldn't hurt that girl for the world. She was a sweet thing, one of my favorites."

"Then why did she point me in your direction?"

He shrugs his shoulders, smoothing out his mustache with his fingers. "I know a thing or two about what happened. I didn't die on my own, sweetheart. Well, I did, but it wasn't without a little help."

I shiver, hit hard with what he's saying. "What happened?"

"Meddlesome little guy. I saw some things I shouldn't have and I confronted him about it. Me gettin' worked up wasn't the smartest thing with my condition. I couldn't breathe and he made sure I couldn't get to the remedy I needed."

"Oh my God," I whisper, realizing what he's saying. "He made sure you wouldn't be able to tell on him."

"Yep. Had to cover his tracks somehow. He got a little sloppy there with his secret keepin'."

"Who was it?" I demand, wondering if this feeling I have is similar to what Charlie feels when he's catching criminals. Not that Forks has many of those.

"I promised Junior and Jasper that I'd take care of their girls. I'm here because Alice still needs to be taken care of. She hasn't made it home yet. Brothers don't always do such a good job of keepin' promises."

"Brother? Clancy, is it Jasper's brother?" I ask, remembering how much Alice hated him.

"We showed you the journal, Miss Bella. Didn't you read it?" His smile is wry, like he's asking a child if they took the last cookie from the jar.

I stand there, dumbfounded, staring at Clancy while thinking about Daisy's journal. I did read it. Well, some of it. "Daisy knew, didn't she?" Or I knew or whatever.

"The question is less about what happened to Alice, and more about what happened to you and Junior."

We died in a car accident on the same day. I already know that part. "What are you saying?"

Clancy doesn't get a chance to answer me as he disappears right before my very eyes and I become aware of someone staring at me. I look up to see the form of a man standing in the doorway.

"Who the hell are you talkin' to? And why are you in here?"

I'm relieved to see that it's Jasper and not someone else blocking my exit. Jasper is safe, I remind myself. "I, um, I was just looking around. Thinking out loud."

"Ah, well, you shouldn't be in here. That floor is liable to give way and you could get hurt."

"Oh. I should probably get out of here then."

He nods, holding open the screen door for me as I walk back outside. My eyes catch his for a moment, awkward because I know I'm searching for something. Some kind of recognition or missing piece. The only things I see, though, are striking blue eyes weighted with an infinite sadness that drives him to drink away his ability to feel.

"Thanks, Jasper," I say, stepping off the porch.

"No one's called me by my given name in years. Not even Elsie down at the BMV."

I don't understand why this upsets me so much, but it does. "I'm sorry. Do you prefer to be called Whitey?"

He shrugs, pulling out a cigarette from the breast pocket of his shirt. "Either or. I answer to both."

"Do you have a brother?" I blurt out.

"Well, yeah. J.B."

Jim Bob. "What's his real name?"

"James Robert."

My heart picks up in rhythm, wondering if I've found the man that harbors evil as Jasper and I start walking back to the main house. "Has he worked here with you long?"

"Around twenty years. He went off to some fancy school in California back in '69 and didn't come home until his wife Vicki died from that cocaine business in '83. Don't you go messin' around with that stuff, it's dangerous."

"I've never done anything like that and don't plan to. I'm sorry to hear about your sister in law." And even more sorry that I'm back at square one.

"It happens. Some people can't deal with life and they end up doin' things that cost them the very life they're tryin' to escape from," he says, the bitterness shining through marginally. I doubt I would have noticed if I didn't have the knowledge I do about what happened to Alice. He's obviously adept at keeping his shell intact.

"Yeah," I say, because I have no wisdom or comfort to provide him.

"Well, you have a nice day, darlin'. I need to get to work. You let us know if you hear anything more about Margie."

"I will. You have a nice day, too, Jasper."

I watch as he walks away, wondering how much pain he deals with every waking moment. Did he ever love again? I understand that Alice was the one for him, but what about someone else? No, that love would never match the intensity of great love, but it can be just as good in its own way. People shouldn't have to be alone. As I walk into the kitchen thinking about what it truly means to 'settle for less', the walls seem to disappear and I start to remember again.

_It's wrong. This is wrong. So wrong, but I can't stop the inertia of the events unfolding. He and I, we're the same, knocked down and leveled with a common pain and loneliness. He's lost and I've lost and neither of us can truly be put back together again. I can't live for tomorrow or an elusive future because hope gives me nothing but room to be blindsided. Alice lost hope, why can't I?_

_We don't say anything because there's nothing to say. I'm not who he loves and he isn't who I love, but we're bound together somehow because we're both so damned lost. His mouth isn't the rush that I long for, but it's better than sitting in a chair, staring at the walls and wondering when my world is going to resume or be ripped away. _

_Mechanical and desperate all the same, we'll both lie and believe, just for tonight, that this is better than hopelessness. _

No, no, no. I wouldn't do that. I couldn't.

But I did. With Jasper. Just not in this life. Now I understand those feelings of guilt and unbearable sadness. How could Alice still reach out to me after something like that? Does she not hold any reservations about what we did? And did I ever tell Edward? Did I get the chance to? I feel like I just did it again, something unfaithful and I need to repent for it.

An overwhelming urge to apologize and claim him as mine surges through me as I run up the stairs, hoping he's awake. I stop abruptly when I burst into the room, seeing his form still tucked beneath the quilt, his arm now wrapped tightly around my pillow as if it was me.

"Edward," I say, but it sounds like a sob. It seems so selfish of me to do this as I watch him jolt awake.

"What's wrong?" he asks with sleep in his eyes and voice.

"I need you to make it go away," I say with no logic to the feeling overwhelming me.

"Bella, I don't – "

I cut him off with my lips, throwing the quilt away from him as I kick off my shoes and straddle his hips. I need him right now. There is no one else and I'm sickened that I can't say that there was never anyone else. It's silly to be this upset about actions I made in a life outside of the one I'm living now, but it all feels so real to me. I love Edward for his soul – who he is inside – and that inside was the same then that it is now, just like me now and when I was Daisy. I'm the same, but I would never do what I did. Is that the purpose of reincarnation? Learning from each life we have?

I try to shut my mind off and focus on the boy beneath me. It's morning, so Edward's body is already alive, warm and hard as I grind against him to the tune of an old song that every lover knows. Biology, spiritual, whatever – I crave every part of the boy meeting me kiss for kiss and touch for touch. I kiss the bruise near his eyebrow, feeling so much gratitude that he's in this situation with me, not just now, but always. He loved me years ago and through death and now again. He was the boy who smiled at me and helped me pick up my books and borrowed pencils that he never remembered to give back. He isn't perfect, but he is to me because he's mine.

"I love you," I whisper, my lips tender from rough kisses and warm breath.

"I love you, too," he says, lifting my shirt over my head and putting his mouth on sensitive places. Places only he knows this intimately.

"I hope I never ever stop wanting you like this," I admit, overwhelmed by the power and intensity behind what I feel with my heart and whole body. I never thought I'd be capable to contain feelings this big, but Edward has a way of making me strong enough.

"Always," he sighs, rolling us over.

"I want every part of you," I say, making my intentions clear.

"You already do."

I'm drunk on love when Edward takes off the rest of my clothes, his hands reverent against my skin. I slide his boxers off and experience that high when I feel the warmth of his bare skin against mine. His fingers find soft and slick and he pushes and curls and I'm so happy I'm not sore anymore. My breaths are coming so quick when he slides low and I feel his mouth on me, staring into his eyes when I lean up and look down.

It's a slow slip like warm honey that builds up and takes over as he pushes me to greater heights. I'm so close, right there, when he stops, leaving me shaking and unfulfilled until he covers my body with his. I just want to feel him, all of him, and as he kisses the side of my neck, I wrap my hand around his length and guide him inside me. I can feel his breath against my shoulder coming in quick pants as he gives in with shallow thrusts before rolling his hips, filling me completely. I moan knowing that it's going to be different this time when there is no pain or nerves, but a sense that this is right when he pulls back and pushes in, making me feel things I've never felt before, not even last time.

"Too good," he whispers, picking up his pace and making every nerve ending I have stand on end.

It's a pull and grind and closer than I've ever felt to another person as I'm blindsided by pleasure and the realization that this is what making love is. His eyes are on mine and I can't look away as I feel trapped inside my body and every sensation I'm feeling. Edward seems to know that I'm right there, just a few more thrusts, and he grins lazily, his hooded eyes never looking quite as green as they do now. His name is a chant as I tense and unravel, feeling my body clinging to his from the inside out. I hold on to him tight as I gasp, enduring the gratification of being with Edward in every way a girl can be with her lover. So quick, he pulls away, his shoulders shuddering as he spills into his palm.

I'm sated and full and once our breathing is back to normal, I want to tell him everything, so I do. "Daisy and Jasper had sex before Junior came home." I tell him quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid.

Edward gives me a look that clearly says 'are you kidding me' and shakes his head. "Well, Bella Swan just had sex with Edward Cullen and that's all I care about."

"You promise you don't care?"

"Bella, why would I be upset about what you did a lifetime ago? I love you right here and now and hopefully every day for the rest of our lives if I can be idealistic for a moment. Who you were isn't who you are now."

He's so sweet he makes me sick… in a good way, of course. "You're right."

"I know. If you went around screwing other guys now, in the present, I'd probably turn into a jealous, petty bitch. Not even gonna lie about that one. I'd tell everyone who'd listen that you broke my heart."

"I'd never do that to you, Edward. Ever," I say, meaning it completely but still smiling because that's what he does to me.

"Good to know. Now, if you don't mind, I need to go wash my hands."

_O-O-O-O-O_

_October 13__th__, 1970_

_It's been awhile since I've written in this thing. I don't really know why I'm doing it now. Maybe these words on the page will relieve some of the pressure in my chest. I don't even know if I'd call it pressure, but more like an abyss. An infinite darkness that I can't find my way back out of. Margie thinks I'm heart sick and I just need time to grieve, but I don't even want to see the sun most days. I don't know why I thought blacking out my window would help me deal with Alice's death. I just don't want to see where Otis found her body. _

_I guess I haven't written about that. There's so much to write about and I don't know if I can find the words. _

_I don't think she killed herself willingly. Jasper doesn't agree with me, but I just think he's angry. I was angry too, but there's something that doesn't add up. At least, not for me. _

_God, why is it so hard to find a way to talk about this?_

_Alice killed herself, but I just don't see how. Not after our conversation at Jasper's memorial service. Not after I saw her resolve to live. I can't believe this. Maybe it's my way of coping, but there's something else. I swear I can still see her sometimes and I can smell that lilac perfume she's been wearing since we turned 13. Maybe it's my own hope that she isn't really dead that does this to me, but I can't believe it. I wish it was all a bad dream._

_Jasper came back. He was lost in the jungles, wounded and sick, but a group of Vietnamese women nursed him back to health. He doesn't know the language very well and it took him a long time to find someone who would help him get home._

_I don't deserve Junior. I don't at all. I don't know what I'm going to do or say. It had been almost five months since I'd heard anything from him and I was scared and hurt and confused. I sound so weak and I hate myself even more for what I did. _

_I slept with Jasper. I can't believe I just wrote that. I want to scratch out that sentence and pretend it didn't happen. It did happen, though. The sickness I get in my stomach isn't just from emotions. I keep wishing that if I pray hard enough for things to go back to normal, I'll bleed out my mistake. I haven't told anyone because that'll make it more real. I don't want it to be real. _

_The morning after Jasper and I did what we did, I received a telegram informing me that Junior is coming home. He was shot in the calf and it shattered his tibia, but he's healed now. Good as new in a way that I'm not. If I could have waited one more day, just one, I wouldn't be in this predicament. How am I supposed to tell him this? That I was too selfish to wait? It was the slowest, blackest year of my life. More than a year. I'm not the one with a bullet scar, but I'm the one who should have been shot. The Lord Almighty got it all wrong. _

_He'll be home in two days. I'll have to tell him what happened. I just hope he doesn't hate me or Jasper for what we've done. God, I bet Alice hates me too. I bet she knows everything, even the things I haven't told anyone yet. She knows what's inside of me and hears me pray that it goes away. I'm so sick. _

_It should have been me. _

It's so final, seeing the last sentence of this entry. It's weird, knowing this was me but not being able to fully understand what Daisy went through because in this life, I haven't ever suffered the kind of grief Daisy did. My best friend is still alive and so are my parents. Edward is inside making dinner, not over where bullets were flying around like insects and bombs were going off. I feel like I don't know anything about life after reading a journal entry so desperate. God, was she pregnant? That'd be like Edward going away for awhile and me doing the deed with Emmett. I can't even…

I sigh, turning the page of the journal. It's not really an entry, but a drawing. I don't know what it is at first because it's obviously a quick rough sketch and nowhere near the level of expertise that Daisy had with a pencil. It's a hand, I realize, holding a tire iron. There's a tattoo on the arm, one of those bulls with the horns – a longhorn, that's what it's called. I stare and turn the page one more time and get a chill down my spine when I see the last thing that Daisy probably ever wrote while alive.

_I think Alice is showing me things in my dreams. Something isn't right about the way she died._


	18. Chapter 18

**Warning: **

**This chapter is violent in nature. Any mistakes are mine. Sorry if they're glaringly apparent. And FF is FAIL for randomly smooshing italics together. **

**Chapter 18:**

**Riders on the Storm**

"What do you think of this?" I lay Daisy's journal onto the kitchen counter, open to her last entry. I feel jumpy, like my skin is too tight over my bones as I watch Edward's eyes scan the page.

"Wow. I wonder who this is."

"Have you seen anyone around here with a tattoo like that?"

"No, I haven't. Not that I've noticed."

Well, of course not. I shut the journal and throw it onto the floor to appease the frustration gnawing away at my insides. I wring my hands together and pace, not for any other purpose than not knowing what to do with myself. "Fuck!"

"What?"

"It's all right there. It's so obvious and I can't see it. I shouldn't give a shit, but I do."

"I think I like how dirty your mouth gets when you're pissed, Swan." I give Emmett a foul glare, conveying that I'm not in the mood. "Geez, lighten up. You look mad enough to kill."

"Maybe I am," I say, not really meaning it because I'm not like the evil man infiltrating every part of my other past and current present.

"Settle down, killer. What were you showing Cullen?"

I pick up the journal and open it to the sketch, hoping Emmett might have some sort of lead. I feel like I'm in a bad episode of CSI on the astral plane. The rules of finding a killer are a little different when apparitions and old memories are pointing out the clues.

"Holy shit."

"What?" Edward and I both ask, my heart picking up speed as adrenaline courses through me.

"Some kid in one of the pictures Otis has had a tat like that."

"Who was he?"

"Don't know."

"I wonder if he's still here?" I speculate, talking more to myself. The thought that this man who did unspeakable things could still be walking around this place gives me chills.

"Why don't we just chill for the night, eat dinner, get some sleep. The last couple days have been crazy. Maybe we can ask Otis who the kid in the picture is. I'm sure he knows," Edward suggests, adding the powdered cheese into the macaroni and milk. His domestic skills make my heart smile a little, especially when he keeps eyeing the directions.

"Otis left. He went to visit his son."

"When will he be back?"

"Not sure. Probably in a day or two. I don't think anyone ventures very far from here. It's like a commune with horses and ghosts."

I roll my eyes at Emmett and sit down at the table just as Edward sits a bowl of Kraft's finest down in front of me. A couple of nuked hot dogs and canned pears on a plate follow and I grin slightly, seeing his attempts at a well balanced meal.

"Thank you."

"No problem."

"Where's my plate?" Emmett asks.

"Get your own, McCarty."

For a little while, I sit with Emmett and Edward, eating dinner and letting myself feel a small sense of normalcy. I've known these two for years and it's nice to talk about other things for once, like the time Emmett wore a cheerleader uniform for the powder-puff football game held annually at Forks High instead of the t-shirts all the other guys on the team wore. But that's Emmett – brave and willing to give people a laugh. He's a good guy and I'm glad he and Edward worked out their differences. If only I could work out my own.

**oOoOoOo**

"Try to get some sleep, please?"

I look over to Edward and curl myself into his side as we lay in bed. "I will. It's easier with you next to me."

"I won't let anyone hurt you, Bella."

"Nothing is going to hurt me. I just want to know what happened and lay it all to rest."

"Leaving well enough alone. I keep thinking that maybe there is no reason. Whatever happened back then, it's been a long time. The man you keep seeing, he's probably dead or close to it by now. If he is alive, he's probably in his sixties eating applesauce for the sake of his colon."

I giggle despite the foreboding I feel thinking this man might still be among the living. "You're probably right."

"I know. But regardless, you're still going to poke around until you figure it out."

"You're probably right." I repeat, earning a small smile from him.

"At least I know you're loyal."

"Among other things," I whisper, kissing him as I lean over his chest to turn off the lamp. The dark doesn't scare me anymore.

"Sweet dreams, Bella."

"You too, Edward," I say, snuggling down next to him, content to hear the steady rhythm of his heart beneath my ear. The most perfect lullaby.

It's a movie flashing before my very eyes. I am me - I think - watching Jasper and Daisy through a window in his cabin, their faces distraught. So much worry, those two, neither of them having time for smiles any longer. A twig snaps and my attention is drawn to the far right side of the cabin. A form lurks in the shadows and my skin crawls and I know without a doubt that I'm about to get the final piece of the puzzle.

"Daisy, wait," Jasper says, just as she bolts out the front door.

"There's no way around it. We'll deal with it when the time comes," she says, leaving Jasper to stand in the doorway.

I follow Daisy, seeing the shadowy figure follow her along the tree line. I know by instinct that I'm not part of this scenario, but separated, seeing only to understand. I want Daisy to be safe - get in the light! - as she walks with a quick pace, almost like she can sense being followed.

My insides scream but I can't make a sound as the form walks up beside her, quick and taking shape out of the shadows.

"Whore."

Daisy startles and spins around, her eyes wide with incredulity. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Promising yourself betrothed to my brother when all the while you're opening your legs for his best friend. Now you got a bastard in your belly. You're no better than that friend of yours who offed herself."

Daisy bristles at his words and reels her hand back before flinging it forward, a satisfying crack ringing out once her palm collides with his cheek. He doesn't even cringe away. "You watch your mouth and your business, Benjamin Masen. What goes on between your brother and I is no concern of yours. And if I EVER hear you speak ill of Alice again I'll tan your hide myself. You're a boy, not a man."

The tattoo flashes on his arm as he steps further into the light while rolling a pack of cigarettes into his shirt sleeve. With one in his mouth, he takes a Zippo from his jeans pocket, a silver one, much like Jasper's but exactly like the one from Emmett's garage. The lighter found with Clancy's things.

Maybe it was lost when it wasn't meant to be. Maybe it slipped out of his pocket as he watched Clancy die.

"You have no idea what kind of man I can be, Daisy. You were always one of my favorites. He taints everything he touches. Alice and now you. He should have stayed dead and gone as far as I'm concerned." His voice is so cold and calm as he wishes for Jasper to have never come back. This is him, I know it.

Benjamin Masen. Junior's younger brother.

"You're a cruel son of a bitch, Benjamin."

"Not cruel. Just looking out for my brother. He's the only person on this earth who matters to me. I'm not going to let you destroy him, Daisy."

"You don't know anything about Junior and I."

"I don't have to know much to know that this is going to kill him," Benjamin smirks in a chilling way. "Can't have that."

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe we'll have to have a talk when Junior gets home tomorrow."

"You stay out of it. Listening to a private conversation between Jasper and I is bad enough as it is."

"You have a good night, Daisy. Sleep well with the weight of your sins. Does that bastard make you sick?"

"Shut up!"

"I wonder if it's just God's way of punishing you for being a harlot. You'll never be clean again. All those years my brother loved you, him going off to war and facing death every day, even taking a bullet, only to come home and find out his friend's baby is in your belly."

Daisy is shaking and crying as she runs toward the house, leaving Benjamin alone in the dark. He stares in the direction that Daisy went for a long time, his cigarette burning down to nothing but ash. Undiluted hatred fills his features and for a moment I can see it - the crazed being that could pull a gun on Alice. A boy who is man enough to do unspeakable things to people, dignified by his own twisted sense of justice. His own obsessions driving him to the darkest of places, no one being safe in his pursuit to get what he wants.

It isn't long before he springs into action, watching out for others as he walks toward a truck that looks eerily similar to mine. Quickly, he grabs a tire iron from the back and makes quick work of loosening the nuts with the night as his ally. I'm shaking my head and I want to scream - stop him - but I can't. I look down at myself and shrink back, seeing the shimmery translucent bloodstain on my form.

Alice saw everything.

"What are you doin', son?"

Tex jumps out of his skin and hides the tire iron behind his back. "Just checkin' the tire for Daisy. She says it's been actin' funny for the last week or so. Seems fine to me."

Oh, you lying mother fucker. Clancy eyes him speculatively. It really is a damned shame that I already know what's going to happen and that I can do nothing to change it.

"Well, all right. You get some sleep. Big day tomorrow with your brother comin' home. It's about time somethin' good happens around here."

"No kiddin'," Tex says with a low whistle. I want to punch him. It's all his fault. It makes sense… he wanted Daisy to get in an accident before she got to Junior, not after. Clancy put two and two together and it all went wrong from there.

Tex got away with too much.

**oOoOoOo**

I feel like I'm awake, but my eyes won't open and I'm stuck in a lucid state. I can't breathe. I can hear Edward calling my name, but I can't talk to him. I can't feel him or say that I'm here. I'm panicking, thrashing around inside this black nothingness. It is a void, a tube, a never ending walkway of dark and Edward is everywhere and nowhere.

"Bella, please!"

I run and run, trying to find my way out of the darkness, spinning and twisting only to see a sliver of light ahead. I must be somewhere between dreaming and awake, but trapped inside my body. I run toward the light, feeling complete terror as I realize that I'm not waking up from a vision like I have in the past. My eyes are open and I am ephemeral and eternal all the same as Edward's voice deepens and thickens and slows, warping into something not of comfort, but of unease. It is not a light ahead, but a door, oak, and all too familiar. A door that likes to lock me in or keep me out. The closer I get the more I become aware of fragments of old conversations. It's like I'm walking backwards, but forward, going into a part of myself that is present but in the past. The music starts, sending a chill up my spine as I push forward. The metallic cling and clang of the tines scraping the barrel inside the music box echoing and everywhere as I place my hand on the door knob, hoping that I find Edward and the light on the other side.

"Oh my darlin', Clementine," a small voice that belongs to Alice sings in my ear as a frosty breeze lifts my hair from my shoulders. She's so close, nearly flush against my side, playing with Jasper's knife while looking off into the distance as if she can see through the door. I fight the sheer panic threatening to pull me under and turn the knob, stepping from the void through the door.

**oOoOoOo**

I listen to the creak and scrape of my rocking chair as I stare out my bedroom window, trying to will myself to meet Alice out by the old oak tree. I don't know why she thinks burying something that belonged to him is going to make any difference, but I guess she needs to do what she needs to do. Old Druid folklore something or another. She's been going to deep, dark places lately and I'm having a hard time relating to her anymore. Having Jasper gone and not even knowing where his body is keeps eating away at me. I can't allow myself to think it, but the thoughts keep creeping in with little flashes of 'what if'. What if the same thing happens to Junior? I need him too much. I can't be losing my mind the way Alice is losing hers. Jasper was the love of her life and she's too young to have lost him already. It's so scary talking about a friend I grew up with in the past tense.

Who am I kidding? My mind is already fleeing. Abandon all hope, right?

Lightning flashes in the distance, followed by a low rumble of thunder. The staccato pattern of rain drops hitting the roof are a lulling buzz that pulls me away from the darkest of my thoughts. I'm so very tired, mentally and physically. Sleeping never sounded so good. I'm a wretched girl: Selfish enough to be relieved that Junior is still alive and selfish enough to be relieved that Jasper is free from the pain and violence of war, despite the cost. I have to believe that God and heaven exist and Jasper now walks among streets of gold, waiting with a smile for Alice to join his side.

"Bella." I hear it as a whisper, like someone is on the other side of my door, calling out to me with the wrong yet familiar name. My brows pinch in confusion as my mind goes foggy. I don't know why I'm sitting here, what I'm supposed to be thinking, why I exist. I was drawing something, but my journal is now in my drawer and I can't bring myself to reach for it. Cold fear trickles down my spine as I lose my footing in reality, trying to remember my own name, where I come from, who my family is – anything to stop this lost feeling. Is this grief? I stand up from the chair and let the afghan fall to the floor, a swirl of different hues of green at my feet. It was so green and the rain made everything so crisp.

But Texas is dry and warm. I don't know…

Junior, Alice, Jasper, Margie. The rhythmic beat of horseshoes galloping across a dry field. Daddy teaching me to clean a gun, the same way Charlie did. Charlie? Jasper lighting a cigarette with a Zippo before he left on the bus that took him to faraway places. But that's not my memory. I wasn't there.

I'm not here. Marbles and tea drank from my glass. Green eyes and a white dress. A lake and mountains. _The __inside __scream __has __no __echo__…_

Edward.

"Edward?"

I look at the window, my lamp causing it to become reflective against the dark of the night outside, and am confused. My hair is blonde. I know it is, but I see brown hair and brown eyes. It's blonde when I look at the waves hanging over my shoulder, but in the window, I see brown. I see a girl I don't know.

"Bella." I hear it again, and I recognize the voice. Alice. But I'm Daisy.

It all hits me like a ton of bricks. I need to wake up. I'm dreaming – remembering – and it's hard to differentiate the past from my present. I start pinching my arms and closing my eyes – anything to wake myself. Panic settles over me as nothing works, not even slapping myself in the face. Why am I not waking up?

What kind of memory is this? What day is it?

I start to cry from acute fear, feeling as if I'm going to be sick. I just want to wake up. Please, just let me wake up! I'm Bella and it's the year 2006. Edward turned nineteen last month and I love him and I fell asleep in his arms. I need to get back to him. A sob escapes me and I feel like the walls themselves are pressing in around me. I need to get out of here, out of this place, out of this time. This isn't a memory because I'm aware. I open the door and walk out into the middle room, moving quickly down the stairs. I need to get out of here. I've never been stuck in a vision before.

The kitchen is so similar to the one I ate dinner in just this evening with Emmett and Edward. My – Daisy's – artwork is still on the walls and the table is still the same but has different color place mats. It's so late, after midnight, and everyone must be asleep. I don't want to see anyone because I don't know how to be Daisy. I'm not that girl anymore. I'm Bella and I shouldn't be here like this.

It's a nightmare. Probably more like a night terror. I used to have them when I was young, but never this intense. I've never felt so physically ill from fear while having a dream. _Please,__please,__please__ – __I__just__want__to__go__home_! I want Edward and Forks and Charlie and college. I should have listened to Edward and stopped poking around for more information. Am I lost in my own head?

I'm going insane.

I step outside and try to calm my breaths. Hyperventilating isn't going to help me accomplish anything. Or maybe it will. Maybe I'll wake up from lack of oxygen. Is my body hyperventilating or am I just dreaming that I am?

I don't know, I don't know, I don't know…

I lean up against the side of a tree to get out of the rain with my head down as I take deep calming breaths. My heart slows down to a more normal rhythm and I stop shaking as hard as I try to clear my mind. Unfortunately, my hard earned calmness doesn't last long as the rustling of feet against gravel draws my attention and spikes my adrenaline yet again.

Absolute understanding settles over me like a lead blanket. I know what's going to happen and I'm going to see it in real time. Do I have the strength in me to watch it happen? I can only observe, but never meddle. I learned that the hard way when I saw Tex and couldn't do anything to stop him.

My feet lurch forward and with a sick determination, I follow the path that will lead me to the demise of my best friend. I know her pain because she's shown it to me, but to witness these events and have no way to stop them is going to make me lose my mind. I know this, yet I follow anyway, hearing voices in the distance as I pass two cabins that look so nice compared to what I walked into earlier this afternoon.

"You're angering me. You don't want to do that." I hear Tex, his voice a strange tenor. He was always jealous of Jasper. Jasper was close to Junior in a way that Tex could never be – the little brother in big brother's shadow – and his hatred of Jasper became an obsession. The tattoo, the smoking, the Zippo, the fascination with Alice: Why had I never put the pieces together? His need for acceptance drove him to such a dark place that he could make himself believe he could take Jasper's place in all areas, including Alice's heart.

He had it so, so wrong.

"Then be angry. I have nothing left, especially not for you. You aren't half the man he was."

"NO!"

I hear the scuffle before I see it, rage boiling my blood as everything comes into view. His body is that of a man, regardless of him being younger, and Alice is so very small. Even though she's small, her fury sets her alight and her blows are hard and quick as she struggles to regain control of the situation. With a knee to his groin, Alice rolls from beneath him and grabs the knife that had been knocked from her hand, standing before him in defense.

"I always knew you'd be a lot of fun." My skin feels too real as chills run up my spine at the sound of his voice and the click of the gun. I don't want to see this. I can't watch Alice kill herself.

My body turns in on itself, my arms wrapping around my torso as I pray to wake up and go home, to be done. I was never meant to play a game as intense as this. I no longer care if I never understand why I saw these things. My future is in Washington with Edward and my dad and college, not here with things that cannot be changed.

"Please, don't do this," I say aloud, opening my eyes in the hopes I'll be back in bed, lying next to Edward.

"Well, well, well – if it isn't my brother's little Daisy doll."

Fear, cold and undiluted, rushes through my veins as Tex trains his eyes on me, manic and wild as the gun in his hand glints ominously in the dark. This isn't how it happened. I remember this part, vividly so, and I'm not supposed to be here. Daisy never showed up. Me. I…

"Don't touch her!" Alice yells, running to stand in front of me. We're close to the same size, this body being maybe an inch or two taller than hers.

"I'm not supposed to be here," I whisper, my fear rendering me meek. It's one thing to be on the outside looking in, or being shown. I've never once changed the events.

"All you had to do was give me a chance, but you couldn't even do that. So damned selfish, just like your man. Well, the son of a bitch is dead, and maybe now you can join him," Tex seethes. He's cracking right before my very eyes. I've thought I'd seen crazy people once or twice, but never once have I seen someone practically vibrating with instability as he raises the gun to Alice.

"Benjamin, don't do this. You need help." I'm shocked by the words that come out of my mouth, but not as much as the fact that they can hear me. That I'm _here_.

"Ha! You think I need help? It's always me that's wrong, right? Me that can't hit the ball, me that can't get the girl, me that can't get the glory. There's always someone better, right, Daisy? I always have to be better. Close, but no cigar. Maybe some other time." His laughter is brittle and he hits his chest with his free hand, showing me that he's becoming more unhinged by the second.

"How do you think you're going to get away with this? You kill her or me or the two of us, they'll hunt you down. You'll hang for this."

"You're a silly girl if you think I care. I don't have a future, Daisy. At least I won't be the kid that no one cares about. I'd rather them all hate me than be invisible. So make your peace with the Lord, Daisy. I didn't want to have to kill you, but I will."

I don't know how to respond. My mind is too quiet and my stomach is too sick. This just can't be real. Unfortunately, I'm not the one who responds. Alice is swift, running forward with a scream, plunging Jasper's blade into Benjamin's chest. His eyes go wide and he hits her with the gun, easily knocking her down. He holds the handle of the knife while dropping to his knees, the barrel of the gun pointed at her. Close range, he won't miss even if he is dying. But no, he doesn't pull the trigger. He smiles at her, a chilling, toothy grin as he coughs up blood. "You've just lost everything," he chokes out, swinging the gun toward me, pulling the trigger.

"No!" Alice screams as a shot rings out, a bullet propelling into my stomach, through me. It feels like fire ripping through me, knocking all the air out of my lungs. I instinctively hold my hands over the wound, sitting down slowly as I try to breathe. It's like a belt is wrapped around my lungs, growing tighter with each breath I take. My hands are already sticky. This isn't right. It's too real. I can feel everything.

"Daisy," Alice sobs, pulling me against her.

"I can't die," I say, but my voice sounds like broken syllables, barely discernible.

"Help!" Alice screams and I hear shouts in the distance. A familiar voice – Clancy – is the closest. He'll take care of her. He promised.

"Oh my God," he says, so sad and so angry. He'll be okay now. Alice will be okay.

"You wait, Alice. He'll be back." My words are faint, but she needs to know this.

"What?"

"Jasper. He'll be back."

"Daisy, I don't know what you mean," she cries.

"I got the gift," I joke, using her words from an old memory. I try to tap my forehead like she did, but my arms are too stiff and the pain too great. "He's not gone."

"No, Daisy, stay with me, please!" She begs as my eyes close. I can't keep them open. It's so similar to being exhausted. No matter how hard I fight it, the lethargy is winning.

"Sing," I whisper, not knowing why, but feeling it's appropriate. If I'm dying, it feels like sleep. I need a lullaby.

"I don't know what," she trails off, rocking me gently. "Oh my darlin', oh my darlin', Clementine…" A soft soprano, a whisper, a memory of green eyes. Death isn't the scary part, it's saying goodbye to everything and stepping through the door to the unknown with no guarantees. The only thing I'm sure of as I feel myself slip away is that I can hear him, somewhere in the distance, saying my name and guiding me with each thud of his heart as my own stops.

**AN: Epilogue to follow as soon as I can post it. **


	19. epilogue

**EPILOGUE:**

"Knock, knock!"

I stand from my seat at the kitchen table and walk toward the door, seeing Phil's girlfriend standing on the porch. Renee is a strange woman, filled with energy and too many smiles to count. When she came to Evanson Ranch, I was a little apprehensive at first but soon grew to appreciate the breath of fresh air she brought with her.

"Hello, Renee," I greet her, opening the screen door to step outside.

"Hi, Alice. I just wanted to drop this off before Phil and I go into town. I told my daughter that you insisted she could have the dress, so she sent you a thank you note. She absolutely loved it."

"Oh, how thoughtful of her," I say with a smile, genuinely meaning it as I take the blue envelope from her. I haven't met Isabella, but Renee keeps talking about her visiting over the summer before she goes off to college.

"Well, I better get going. You have a good afternoon!"

"You, too!"

It was last month, May, when she, Margie, and I went through Daisy's things and donated everything that people could use. It was cathartic for me, to finally say goodbye after all these years to an irreplaceable friend. My best friend. No one else has taken that title since. I never thought I could kill a man, but I did that night. The night she died. It took a long time for me to come to terms not only with my actions, but her death that came anyway.

"What's goin' on?"

I look up from the envelope in my hands and into the deep blue eyes of my Jasper. He's been my rock, my lover, and my most important friend since Daisy. She told me that night that he would come back to me. At first, I thought she was losing her mind as she slipped away from me, but just a short while later, Jasper really did come back. His story was a horrible one, but we've made do since, holding on tight and not letting go. If I've learned anything in my life, it's that love can bring out untapped reservoirs of strength that people aren't aware that they have. It was hard getting over the guilt of Daisy, and then later Junior, but Jasper and I eventually married and had a son. Life goes on no matter how bad things get. Our boy moved to Houston and became a lawyer and just last year, he and his wife gave Jasper and I our first grandchild. Victories are won in the smallest of ways if we just look for them.

"Renee's daughter sent a thank you for the dress. She must have told Isabella that it was hard for me to let it go."

He doesn't say much, my Jasper. He never had to. One of his greatest strengths is his silence and ability to listen. He places a kiss on my temple and gives me a small smile before walking out the door, going back out to the fields. He's always been at home here on the ranch, and I have too. I'm still thankful that Margie didn't sell it off and let everything go when Daisy died. Some urged her to do it, but she refused, saying that it would dishonor the memory of her family if she gave up for them. I think that's how she dealt with so much tragedy so close together. Work has always kept her from falling apart.

Junior was shot in the leg over in Vietnam not too long after Daisy was killed. It was Jasper who knew how to get word to him, letting Junior know what had happened to her and his brother. While he was in the hospital, his wound became infected and he got sepsis, his own body shutting down one organ at a time. It was awful and so hard to lose another, but I had a feeling Daisy was there with him. I often wonder if it would have panned out differently had she not died. Maybe he would have fought harder, having something so important to live for.

I shake my head, trying to forget about such things as I slide my finger beneath the lip of the envelope. The card is lovely with butterflies swirling into the words 'Thank You' on the cover. I open it up and read the small note, Isabella thanking me for giving the go ahead for Renee to give her Daisy's dress for graduation and the hopes that she'll meet me when she comes to visit before school starts. Daisy and I had the same dress, but mine was ruined by the mud and Daisy's blood that seeped onto it when I held her as she died. Awful memories, but again, life goes on.

I read the back of the picture sent with the card. **Bella and Edward, May 2006.** Ah, her boyfriend. Renee mentioned him before. I gasp when I flip it over and look at the couple smiling at each other. Someone had taken the picture from behind them, Bella and Edward holding hands a little ways off, staring into each other's eyes. They look just like they should being two kids in love, but that's not what has my heart racing.

I walk over to my chest and open the lid, digging down to the bottom where I keep Daisy's journal. I found it in her room days after she died and took it without telling anyone. It was her private thoughts and sketches that she never shared with anyone but me. I wanted to keep the sanctity of it. With shaking hands, I flip to the last page, the last sketch she'd ever done, and compare the picture Isabella sent me to the drawing.

It's uncanny. The pose, the dark haired girl and the wild haired boy. Her dress, his jeans and flannel. Even the tree next to them. Daisy always drew people from her imagination, having the envious ability to translate whatever she saw in her mind onto paper with magnificent skill.

I laugh as tears spring to my eyes and I just know that this was meant for me. I joked all the time about being the psychic one, but it wasn't me. She knew, even when she was dying in my arms, she knew. Whether or not Bella and her Edward are who I want to believe they are, Daisy saw them and drew this final picture for a reason. It was Daisy all along who had the gift.

**AN: ****Thank you for everything. **


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